


Parthenogenesis

by tezukaLives



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Aged-Up Characters, Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Fucking awful language, Gen, Harm to Animals, I'm just gonna keep slapping tags on here as I go, Medical Horror, Mpreg, Other, Pregnancy, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 09:05:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 38,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tezukaLives/pseuds/tezukaLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a certain order to Alternia and its people, one that hadn't been disrupted in hundreds and hundreds of sweeps. There was a way trolls were supposed run their lives; a way they were meant to be born and raised that had carried on as long as their species could recollect. </p><p>That was all knocked out of line by one sorry, unprecedented mutant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Reunion

Above a dramatic, ivory-white hive of tents and pillars rose the first tendrils of a bleary morning sun. The languid stretch of greenish sky yawned above, as a nocturnal world began to shut down just beyond the pearly desert. At the tower's apex Kanaya Maryam, a respectable troll of eight, clattered away at her husktop. As always she was ignorant of the nagging daylight that should command her to sleep. She was lost in the latest chronicles of undead sightings, and flighty rumors that corpses had been found in the halls of a command ship, mysteriously drained of blood...

She knew all this clamor was terribly bogus, but she'd always had a weakness for bad paranormal stories. It was almost dawn before she noticed the pounding on the floor below. There was a stubborn, persistent hammering at the front door; an impetuous banging of someone with no time to spare. Quietly she closed her browser and padded down to the main entryway; neat, tailored gown fluttering behind her. Kanaya peered though the reinforced porthole to see a vague, glass-distorted figure glaring back at her. The shapeless, cheap clothes, the wild tangle of black hair, and those tiny, barely visible nub horns all struck her at once. Her bloodpusher began to tremble as she assembled the image in her mind and opened the door.

Before her stood a compact, haggard young troll whose eyes burned; molten red irises around iron-black pupils. Without a word he tugged his lopsided hood backward to permit a better look at his face.  
  
"...Karkat Vantas," she murmured absently.  
  
"No, just the stupidest fucking Impostorogue on the planet."  
  
"I haven't... No one's seen you in more than a sweep- or gotten a single message! Everyone was sure you'd been culled."  
  
"Good. Here's hoping. Maybe they'll leave me the hell alone for once now that they think I'm dead. Kanaya, you will not believe what I had to-" Before he could finish his sentence, Kanaya had an outburst. Instinctively she looped her arms over his shoulders (it wasn't hard, they were roughly the same height,) and pulled the scraggly little troll into her chest. She wasn't prone to this kind of outward display, but in the moment it seemed too appropriate to avoid. His whole frame stiffened and tensed at first contact, but he eased fairly quickly and ended up slumping some of his weight into her. That's when she felt it: something unusual pressed from under his heavy cloak and intruded between them. It was too defined to be fabric, too hard to be fat, like nothing Kanaya had ever come in contact with. The strange, firm mass sat squarely on his abdomen, and locked her into that pose with confusion over its mysterious bulk.  
  
"Can, uhhh... Can we stop hugging yet?" Karkat's voice sounded groggy and tired.  
  
"Oh. Yes. Of course. Pardon me." Kanaya quickly slunk back, folding her hands behind her and straightening her posture. Though she sniffed out any ungainly expression she might have had, Karkat could see her eyes dawdling on his stomach.  
  
"So... Are you gonna let me in or what? It's been a long night, and most people aren't freaky sun-worshippers like you." Karkat had regained his composure as well.  
  
"Certainly, you're... always welcome here. Please, sit down wherever you like."  
  
"Yeah." He staggered over to the nearest seat and collapsed onto it, a little carelessly. Kanaya repressed pangs of concern for her lovely fainting couch and sank down into the matching armchair. Every corner of the room was meticulously arranged, with lavish furnishings that gleamed their embroidered patterns in black and jade ribbons that covered every available inch of fabric. There was a remarkably uncomfortable pause, wherein one person had a hundred things to ask and the other no energy to say anything.  
  
"Where have you been this whole time? Most of our old comrades are still in approximately the position you left them, but I haven't heard anything about you for perigees."  
  
"Uh, I had to cut off communications for a while. The culling drones had been buzzing around, and I couldn't afford to draw any attention to myself. Others tried to stay off the grid too. Sollux had to really limit his hacking shenanigans, which just about broke his fucking bifurcated technophile brain."  
  
"Even Sollux stayed in contact with others. I heard about him through Feferi, so he had to be talking to someone."  
  
"Yeah, well, Sollux and Feferi still have lusii."  
  
"Oh... I'm sorry. What happened to yours?"  
  
"He just dropped dead. Woke up one night and there he was, curled up in the main block like... a dead bug. Useless bastard. I guess he'd 'reached the end of his lifecycle' or something."  
  
"Well, most trolls outlive their lusii. But why did you cease contact after that? And leave your hive? I get the feeling this isn't just a recreational visit."  
  
"I only hung around for him. Staying in one place for too long was practically asking the drones to come get me, but I couldn't ditch my own damn lusus and he's too big and too dumb to travel with. So as soon as he keeled over I took off. Packed up whatever I could find worth keeping and left."

"You just wandered into the wilderness?"  
  
"I couldn't stay with someone and risk getting them killed just because I'm an abomination to the species. I couldn't just sit in that hive and wait for the fucking drones to pick me off. I didn't have any other options. Like I started to say earlier, you would not believe the fucking sweep I've had." Though she nodded sympathetically, Kanaya's eyes kept drifting incessantly to the lump at Karkat's middle. "And... yeah... God, it's a long story. And not a good one. One of those shitty travel stories that goes on too long and is full of plot holes and obnoxious characters."  
  
"I understand. May I inquire as to the reason you trekked all the way out here?" She picked her words very cautiously, cutting around her questions purposefully like a surgeon prodding a tumor.  
  
"I ran out of alternatives. Let me tell you right now, I am the biggest festering nookstain on Alternia for roping you into all this shit. But I really didn't have anywhere else to go. You weren't a last resort, Kanaya; I'd never wish that on you. You were the last feasible measure that could have possibly hit my rotted thinkpan, and I am so sorry."  
  
"Don't apologize. Clearly you'd rather be anywhere else than here, so you're not waxing needy. Stay here, please." Kanaya sat up and trotted off down the hall; partly to get some water for her guest and mainly to give herself a chance to orchestrate the next phase of questioning. When she returned with the pristine serving tray (she never used it anyway,) Karkat was just where she'd left him, sprawled out on his back but careful not to allow his dusty boots onto the apolstery. Setting the tidy drinking set on the coffee table, she shot him an expectant glace, which he pointedly ignored.

  
"So, at any point would you care to elaborate on the exact cause for such a desperate course of action?" Her inquiry was modest, but bursting at its seams with poorly disguised meaning. All she got in response was an agitated groan and a hand swinging out in some dismissive, halfhearted gesture. But she was not having any of this. Karkat was never one to be upfront with personal issues, but he was also terrible at avoiding them. She decided to slice a little deeper, both out of morbid curiousity and geniune concern. "Pardon my saying, but you do not seem to be... in the best health." Even Kanaya winced a little as the words slid out, so loaded and dense. But time to poke at the tumor was over: she was going at it with a chainsaw. "Have you come seeking medical attention? Are you ill?"  
  
"... Yeah. You could say that."  
  
"Do you... know what it is? Is it treatable?" Another exasperated noise, a hand slapped over his eyes.  
  
"Kanaya, I'm pregnant."  
  
She blinked dumbly at the statement as her illustrious vocabulary reeled. 'Pregnant' was a term she'd heard in zoology encyclopedias, referring to a gruesome reproductive practice of primitive hermaphroditic musclebeasts. It was never applied to trolls. She had to blabber a moment for further inquiries that yes, she heard that correctly and yes, he does intend the textbook definition of the word. Though she grasped the basic biological concept for sweeps, Kanaya could barely register the situation now presented before her. The entire thought of gestating another animal inside you made her bilesack turn. It sounded less like a legitimate step in the lifecycle and more like some parasitic monstrosity.  
  
"... How? Ah - are you sure?"  
  
"Pretty fucking sure." As if surrendering to a firing squad, he sat up glumly and held his arms out to each side, emphasizing his distended figure.  
  
"How long has this been... occurring?" Today was a morning of personal discovery: Kanaya found her eloquence is completely soluble in shock.  
  
Karkat sighed loudly and dropped his head into his hands. "I don't know. Maybe five, six perigees. It's hard to tell."  
  
"Well, how long until - god, I don't know what to say - how long until... it's over?"  
  
" **I don't know.** " There was a firmer note of impudence this time. "Can't be too long, I feel like shit. That's why I came here, alright? I couldn't run any more. I can't run and I'll die if they catch me. I just... I can't lay down and die. Not after all this." At this point, he had kicked off his shoes and curled into an upright ball. With his knees to his chest and his head lowered between them, he seemed to collapse his whole body into a tight, anxious little heap.

Kanaya wasn't by any means a proponent for physical affection: she found it childish and inappropriate in the vast majority of situations. But Karkat was different. Once again, a peculiar vexation nagged at her mind, compelled her to do something, _anything_ , to ease his sorry condition. The two trolls had a long history together, and there had always been a staid friendship between them. Had not they both found someone else in desperate need of pale attention, they would have probably made great moirails. Silently she perched beside him, her sheer layered skirts rumpled heedlessly below her, and wrapped her arms gently over his shoulders. He didn't resist this time, but shivered weakly and curled himself into a tighter knot as she tugged him onto her lap.  
  
Neither one of them was fully aware how long they stayed like this, or of the exact course of their muttered apologies and questions and reassurances. All they knew for sure was that by the time Karkat loosened his grip and stopped mumbling, he had fallen into a shallow, uneasy sleep. It was the kind of sleep one finds when they're just too exhausted to stay conscious any longer, and Kanaya docilely maintained her pose, afraid to rouse him. She was lost in thought anyway, on her sudden plunge back into relationship, the unimaginable stories her friend must be keeping from her and the sheer absurdity of the whole situation. All of this gave her the feeling that this was going to be a very long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As thorny as it is to admit, this is my first fanfiction posted online, and any feedback would be greatly appreciated.


	2. The Breakdown

Approximately one sweep ago, the world was a very different place for Karkat Vantas. For one thing, he still had a hive, a lusus, an internet connection and all his teeth. In retrospect it was a pretty sweet deal. But fate had a way of high-kicking him in the chest when he least expected it. It all started with a curt and ominous text from his old hate-friend, Sollux Captor.

twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TA: hey. hey, cg. piick up.

TA: check your phone a22hole, thii2 ii2 iimportant.

CG: IT'S PRACTICALLY NOON YOU BIPOLAR SHITSPONGE.

CG: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?

TA: look, aa 2ay2 2he'2 2een drone2 out by the cliiff2.

TA: a2 iin culliing drone2. 

CG: WAIT, WHAT? IF THIS IS A JOKE YOU HAVE THE WORST FUCKING SENSE OF HUMOR ON ALTERNIA. SERIOUSLY.

CG: LIKE, EVEN ZAHHAK COULD READ YOUR GODAWFUL LOGS AND SAY

CG: "D--> that is e%cessive and 100dicrous, and you will stop."

CG: "D--> sweat sweat"

TA: ii'm dead 2eriiou2 man. 2he 2aw them around du2k: gotta be three or four of them.

TA: aa doe2n't joke about 2hiit liike thii2.

CG: WELL, WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT THIS?

TA: there'2 nothiing we can do dumba22. iif the drone2 come after you you're a2 good a2 dead. everyone know2 that.

CG: THANK YOU FOR THAT COMPLETELY USELESS INFORMATION. I MEAN, WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS IF WE'RE SO IRROVOCABLY SCREWED?

TA: ii don't know, ii ju2t fiigured ii'd want two know iif ii were about two get hunted down liike a rabiid pawbea2t. don't ju2t 2tand there wiith a biig neon 2iign that 2ay2 'plea2e cull me for the good of the 2peciie2.'

CG: FUCK. WHO ARE THEY OUT FOR? WE HAVE SO MANY... CULL-ABLE MORONS TO WORRY ABOUT.

AT: ii ju2t told you douchebag, ii don't know. they've been 2niiffiing around all over the place. iit could be anyone.

CG: OKAY, LET ME THINK... 

CG: I HAVE TO GO. THANKS FOR THE WARNING, I GUESS. 

TA: no problem. 2tay aliive, man.

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

Karkat slammed his mobile on the desk in frustration. At the very least Sollux didn't bother to be cryptic, but the only time he talks straight is when he's really distraught. The drones' presence was never a good sign. They only made themselves known when they were pursuing a mark, and at this point in time it could have been anyone. He had to stop for some time to collect his thoughts _("OHFUCK OHFUCK OHFUCK")_ and internally debated whether or not to contact others with the bleak news. On one hand, if there were a drone coming at them, there wasn't much a normal troll could do to save themself. These monstrousities were faster than the eyes could process, and strong enough to smash through walls if their path was blocked. Spending your last few nights in grim anticipation of getting culled would be a horrible way to go, and if talking to Gamzee had taught him anything it's that ignorance is bliss. But on the other hand, suppose there was a way to escape the drones? Or at the very least, wouldn't some people want to know if they were about to face annihilation? 

Below the respiteblock he heard his lusus clacking and shuffling around. Stupid invertebrate; he never had the decency to keep it down while others were trying to work on their intrepid survival plots. Eventually Karkat decided to send out a mass message. If the powers that be had monitored their chatlogs, a good portion of the trolls he knew would've been dead by this point. Opening a public memo would be asking for trouble, though, so he settled on copy-pasting a few sentences to every address on his contact list.

CG: ATTENTION ASSHOLES. I'VE GOTTEN WORD THAT IMPERIAL CULLING DRONES HAVE BEEN SITED NEAR THE WESTERN COAST. THEY'RE ON THE MOVE, AND THEIR TARGET COULD BE ANY ONE OF US. KEEP YOUR HEADS DOWN IF YOU WANT THEM TO REMAIN INTACT AND FULLY ATTACHED TO THE REST OF YOUR SORRY CARCASS. THOUGHT MAYBE SOME OF YOU WOULD BE INTERESTED IN KNOWING IF YOU WERE ABOUT TO GET SLAUGHTERED. GOOD LUCK, AND IF THIS IS THE LAST COMMUNICATION WE HAVE, I JUST WANT TO SAY: YOU CAN ALL KISS MY BULGE.

That sounded alright. It was pessimistic and profane enough to be a suitable last testament for the vitriolic urchin known briefly to the world as Karkat Vantas. It was indeed the last word several people would hear from him for the next sweep; though a lucky few would be treated to an encore of his charming lyricisms. Before that, though, he had to start orchestrating his own daring flight from the drones. He wasn't sure how, but he was darkly confident that the Empire had found out about his blood color. From the time he was about three, he had understood that his wretched mutation would most likely be the death of him, so absconding was a topic he'd often considered. One glimpse of that neon red and the culling board would immediately start procedures to wipe him off the face of the planet.

Every one of the next few nights seemed muggier and more apprehensive than the last. Cloudy conversations played out, some lukewarm agreements were made, only a small portion of those were honored. The cool, sour-sweet embrace of the recuperacoon did nothing to ease the weight on his mind, and oftentimes he would find himself lying wide awake in the slime for hours. Meanwhile, as if picking up on his charge's weariness and anxiety, Karkat's lusus had gotten increasingly sluggish and distant as well. The old crab never tolerated people in his 'personal space' much, but now he just didn't seem to have the energy in his chipped carapace to fuss at them. He didn't even take the trouble to snap anymore, which made Karkat worry more than he'd ever like to admit. But no matter how foul or belligerent he got, the beast was still his guardian, and he didn't have the heart to abandon him. Not even in these dire circumstances.

About a week after that initial text message, the inevitable finally came around. In retrospect, he still thinks that seven is too young to wake up to a suspiciously quiet hive. He padded down to the main block, laden with dread and a frigid, specific kind of fear. Sure enough, near the bottom of the stairwell, his lusus was lying on the floor, with pincers curled up over his head. No blood or fissures to his shell suggested violence, but his lidless eyes had glazed over in a way that made clear he was long dead. That was the last straw; the last thing tying him down to the place. He would mourn his faithful custodian later; now he had to make up for lost time.

It was almost upsetting how easily he could stuff his whole livelihood into a backpack. He went about his somber task absently and mechanically, stifling his emotions for a time when they wouldn't get him killed. In a few minutes he had crammed all the resources he could think of: a sickle on each hip, several cans of food, a cheap folding knife, an old carton filled with water, a lighter, a durable blanket and his crabtop. How long its batteries could hold out was regrettably overestimated. Slinking out the rear exit, he took a final glance at his lifelong hive and set out into the mid-morning smog.

Within a couple of hours the heat and light had become unbearable. Karkat had stretched the back of his shirt up over his horns in hopes of cutting the brutal sun, but it was useless. The black fabric just soaked in warmth and made him loathe the day even more than he ever thought possible. Each step made his burden feel heavier, but he didn't dare stop moving for fear that the drones would be shortly behind him. Manicured lawnrings were becoming rarer as he approached the feral parts of the sector, and the calm, organized grassland had given way to a craggy hillside. He staggered on until his knees threatened to give out, forcing him to scramble under an outcropping in the rock for some semblance of shade. It felt like his eyes were dissolving in his skull, and he had to clamp his hands over them for some time until the he could distinguish colors rightly again. At that point he had to resign that he physically couldn't walk any further, and if the drones caught up that would just have to be it for him. Dirty and sore, head swimming, he draped an arm over his smoldering eyes and fell into a weak, uneasy sleep.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

When he awoke on the sun-faded couch, Karkat was alone. The light swimming in from the uncurtained windows was obnoxiously bright, and he mumbled a few drowsy obscenities at the familiar burning. Still rubbing his eyes, he sat up to look around and see if Kanaya was nearby. She had probably retired to the upstairs respiteblock, resting soundly in a recuperacoon like a normal, decent troll. God, he missed the recuperacoons. These days he could hardly sleep for more than an hour at a time without being pried awake by some gruesome, half-formed daymare. His dreams had drifted into a fresh horror with recent perigees: the typical patterns of etherial attackers and unmistakable burning-skin stench had given way to a new, more disturbing scenario.

Every time he nodded off, Karkat would arrive, exactly like the last time, in some vague, nondescript landscape. Dream landscapes are rarely memorable unless they actively influence what's going on. He'd look down at his ridiculous belly, and with a twinge of pain little spots of red would begin to bleed through his shirt. Compelled by macabre impulse, he'd roll up the loose fabric and see, in lurid detail, those uncountable little teeth gnashing out at him. Some... thing, too big and too hideous to be a grub, would rip its way out of him, slowly and agonizingly. And every time it did so he would just stand, or sit, or kneel there and feel every razor bite and every bony talon raking him apart from the inside out. As it slid to the ground, it would leer up at him before exiting completely from the jagged hole in his abdomen. Its bloody features varied a bit from day to day, but it always had so many dim, beady eyes above its rows and rows of serrated teeth. Days like these made Karkat grateful that he was used to operating on very little sleep.

He stomped around dumbly, trying to figure out what to do with himself in this strange hive. His whole body felt slow and heavy, and part of him gave serious consideration to raiding the thermal hull while no one was looking. At some point Kanaya must have heard him clunking around down there, _("snarky broad and her freakish bat-ears,")_ and called out for him to meet her upstairs. Reluctantly he complied, dreading further inquisition but aware that he really couldn't deny his gracious host. She didn't let her eyes leave the computer when Karkat entered her room, just waved him toward a spot beside her. Her respiteblock was much less regal than the downstairs atrium (or maybe it was just disorganized from her staying up all day?) and she was sitting cross-legged near the top of a pillow mountain that may or may not have had a chair beneath it. Karkat glanced around for a proper seat, but eventually made do with a comically tall stack of cushions. When he tried to glance over at her screen, Kanaya promptly ended the program and hit the power button. Wonderful; she wanted to talk without interruptions.

"So, did you sleep well?" Her voice was flat and distracted.

"No. My head feels like there's a bunch of angry bees in it and fuck could you close a window or something."

"In a moment. First, I have to ask you about your plan of action for the immediate future."

"I have absolutely no idea. That's my plan." His head was already finding its way back into his hands; he was shutting down again.

"With all due respect, that's a terrible plan."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, what are you going to do when... You know. ...Do you even know what's going to happen?"

"Nnnngh... No." Just thinking about it made him cringe internally. He had a vague idea of how other animals produced their young, but could never stomach reading too much into it. Every time he tried the nausea would return and he'd have to lie down to sleep it off in his grisly daymares. As she watched him knead his face wearily, Kanaya began to worry she could never wring any concrete answers out of him.

"When the grub comes, what will you do? How are you going to care for it?"

"I don't know!" Tears started inching down the contours of his face. Their warm, diluted hue always made her look twice, even though she'd been aware of his blood color ever since his eyes turned. "God, I really don't know. I'm not somebody's goddamn lusus, I don't know what to do with a wriggler." Here, a thought condensed itself in her rattled thinkpan. She was the one with all her physical and emotional facilities at the moment. She was the one he had come to when he was desperate beyond any possible alternative. She was the one he was relying on for help, and it was time she took active effort to help him.

He was sobbing now, no longer bothering to restrain himself. Karkat just didn't have the mental energy to care how he looked. Maybe later he'd try to reconstruct what little dignity he had left. "I don't know how it's gonna happen and I don't know what to do after and I don't know if _either one of us_ is gonna live through it. The only reason I came here is because I'm pretty much fucked and I was hoping you'd have some kind of idea!"

"Calm down. I realize you've been through a lot recently, and I didn't mean to push you too far. Whatever happens, I'm sure we can work something out."

"Shit's easy for you to say. You might have a crazy bloated asshole barging into your hive, but we're still not on the same 'universe wrecking your life' scale."

"Well... We've got two options. We can concede that the universe has preemptively wrecked our lives for us and wait around for it to finish us off, or we can try to do something constructive to prevent that from happening."

"What are you getting at?" An eye peered out momentarily from under his red-tinted sleeve. She had his attention.

"We'll get to the bottom of this. Understanding the problem is the first step to solving it. But I'll need your cooperation to accomplish that."

"... Okay, fine. Just... just give me a few damn hours before the next interrogation. I came in here getting ready to chase down a herdbeast and slaughter it with my bare hands, and haven't improved much since then."

"Of course! I'm sorry, I've been terribly inconsiderate. We were both a little preoccupied today. Let's find you something to eat; we'll talk more later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Thanks to AO3's wonderful help staff, I now know the basic HTML needed to make text colors. Problem solved! Also, my apologies to the servers for the serial tweaking.


	3. The Discovery

Two perigees in the brutal wilds had taught Karkat something: he was a terrible survivalist. After a few nights of stretching canned vegetables and syrupy lumps, (they were some kind of cheap energy bars, before the heat got at them,) he had to resort to hunting down vermin for sustenance. They were stringy and sickly and their charred, barely-edible bodies tasted foul enough to leave him hating nature with a passion he once reserved for other trolls. Every night he'd travel until the sun threatened to rise, then scurry for cover like a bug. Wild predators were bold and abundant, many of whom would only respond to the sharp hook of a sickle. The crabtop was his last precious link to civilized society, and it burned out after a few ovenlike afternoons. He was dirty and sore and his bag had gotten perilously light, but there was no turning back in the directionless wilderness.

Somewhere on his path the chaparral gave way to ancient mountain passes and precarious cliffs, where signs of life were becoming dismal. Just as dawn began to eat away at the pastel moons, he came upon a peculiar, out-of-the-way opening in the rock. The location was tucked away from the main path, which he had been deliberately avoiding, and its entrance seemed deceptively small in contrast with the sheer ravine. An odd corner of his brain recalled that this site wasn't far from the crossroads between two bygone townships. They were deserted, naturally: these places were so old that they were made by troll hands. It had been decades since adults lived on the planet, and even longer since they built anything without construction drones. But the dingy crevasse still offered impeccable shade, so Karkat jumped at the opportunity to avoid another hellish sunrise. His eyes and skin would thank him for it.

Inside he swiped at the light switch, knowing that electricity would be a pipe dream in a building this dilapidated. He was right. There were, however, some emergency candles in the cabinet that he tripped over while fumbling around. (Like many parts of this adventure, he realized in retrospect that walking straight into the dark was a stupid idea.) Lighting them revealed a tight, utilitarian space that had few definite walls to obscure the bare rock the room was cut from. Stacks of paper and rags were busy molding in every irregular corner, and the whole thing smelled like wet stone and mildew. With his sad little candle flickering, he began to poke around.

Against the wobbly rear wall there was a cracked, grimy pod that might have once been a recuperacoon. The slime inside had evaporated sweeps ago, leaving a sugary-smelling humidity and crusty residue behind. You couldn't pay him to investigate the contraption any closer than that. _("God knows what kind of infections diseases were spawning in there.")_ Beside this rusty shell there were several boxes of antique documents, carefully stacked and left entombed to rot in peace.

Most of the papers were too decayed to be legible, but a few still bore strange conspiracies and hand-scrawled messages in old Alternian. History was never his strong point: all dusty old books and mythologies that lost their meaning centuries ago. _("Aradia would've flipped her shit over this place.")_ But he was going to be trapped in this hole till moonrise, so he had to find something to occupy himself. Karkat leafed through them slowly, quietly deciphering their smeary handwriting in hopes of riding out the afternoon with sanity intact. Bit by bit the smudgy notes and yellow printouts illuminated a fantastic story; a diary of rebels who plotted against the Empire. They seemed to be a small group, who operated out of wasteland lean-tos and other remote hideouts. Certain reports suggested they had ambitious plans, to assassinate world leaders and tear starships from the sky. He didn't need to be an archeologist to guess how this worked out.

The most interesting excerpt was the one he found perched atop a rickety shelf, tucked carefully between the pages of a leathery booklet. It was a contract, a promise between members of the sect to protect each other and uphold their principles until the end. At the bottom it displayed the signatures of a dozen or so trolls, their signs written lovingly in the appropriate colors. Unsurprisingly they were all lowbloods, with only two higher than lime on the spectrum. But what caught his attention wasn't the names or symbols: it was a signature which lacked either. Right in the center of the cluster, apparently the first pledge given, was a lone, vivid red "X".

Karkat gawked at it for several seconds, trying to interpret what it was supposed to mean. At first he tried his best to assume that it was simply a "mark here" gesture, some cosmic coincidence planted to torment him even further than his own blasted color already had. However, a careful examination of the other surviving documents debunked that theory: the jeering red X popped up everywhere, often alone. It was definitely being used as a signature, and it evidently belonged to someone very important in this organization. Now he was reading each article carefully, whispering curses at every one too desecrated to make out. About ninety sweeps ago, a person had walked the planet with no sign or caste to his name, and he had not only survived, but flourished.

Testimonials from generations past had preserved this troll in places where the Empire had long since stomped him out. No one knew his wriggling name, or if he even had one, but he was both loved and notorious as the once-legendary Signless. He was quite the rebel and philosopher, traveling far and wide to elude capture all whilst preaching his wild ideals. "Caste cannot contain people." "The color of one's blood has nothing to do with their physical or mental competence." "Trolls should be judged on their actions, not their sign. We are all the same people, and should treat each other as such." Astonishing. This man was a complete lunatic. All of this inspiring information boiled down to one thing: Karkat's suspicion that blood mutations injure mental development had been confirmed.

These anecdotes supplied all kinds of ethical arguments and fluffy erudition, but disappointingly little raw data. Clearly he was a troll of discerning mind and (sickeningly) compassionate heart, but where he was hatched, how he made it through the brood caverns, what kind of lusus cared for him... None of these things were mentioned. Whoever transcribed these passages had put plenty of emphasis on morality and concepts, but neglected to describe exactly how their beloved Signless came to these revelations. For the first time in his life, Karkat had evidence that he was not the only troll of his kind. But instead of reassuring him, this information threatened to drive him mad. It had abandoned him, alone in the dark with curiosity that he'd likely never satiate.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Barren, sandy nights, combined with the seething hunger he'd been growing over the past few weeks, made leftover grubloaf the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten. His wavering pride stopped him from liking the nutrition plateau, but not from scraping every last particle of meat off the ceramic. Kanaya was prim and polite once more, even so hospitable as to offer up her recuperacoon to the weary traveler. They both knew that would be unsanitary and ridiculous, but it's the thought that counts. Eventually they decided that an ablution trap filled with sopor mix would achieve the same effect, and Karkat wasted no time locking up with it to avoid another quiz session. All he wanted to do was give his retinas a desperately-needed break from the sunlight. Satisfied with her work as a host, Kanaya took to her husktop one last time for the day.  
  
caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling  grimAuxillatrix [GA]  
CA: finally kan  
CA: wwhere the hell havve you been  
CA: you nevver cut out wwithout sayin somefin  
GA: Sorry  
GA: I Was A Bit Busy This Evening  
GA: Was There Something You Wanted To Discuss   
CA: ehh, just the usual i guess  
CA: sol gettin all up in my nub for some reason  
CA: if this isn't blackrom i dunno wwhat is  
GA: Weve Talked About Being Too Hasty  
GA: Especially With Him  
CA: yeah i knoww  
CA: im just sayin  
CA: anywway  
CA: wwhats up wwith you  
GA: Its Complicated  
GA: Very Very Complicated  
CA: that tells me exactly nothin  
CA: cmon kan  
CA: its your moirail youre talkin to here  
CA: wwhats the big deal  
GA: Look Its A Delicate Situation And Im Really Not In A Position To Disclose Right Now  
CA: vvris  
GA: God No  
GA: That Is An Entirely Different Delicate Situation  
GA: Can We Talk About Something Else  
CA: wwell at least gimme a vvague idea  
CA: after all the shit i told you its practically obligatory  
GA: I Will Get Back To You On This When The Dust Settles  
GA: I Promise  
CA: okay  
CA: wwell  
CA: get to sleep you insomniac freakshow  
CA: its almost dusk and i knoww you stayed up  
GA: You Are Getting Better At These Pale Shenanigans  
CA: i knoww dear  
caligulasAquarium [CA]  ceased trolling  grimAuxillatrix [GA]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to anyone who's suddenly found their comment missing: there's a good chance I may have accidentally deleted it while editing. Sorry!


	4. The Investigation

"Eridan? Seriously? What the fuck?!"

"It's a long story and-"

"I mean, I don't say this kinda thing often, but you could do better." Though brief, the sopor soak had restored a lot of his venom. Karkat was glad to have at least regained his verbal weaponry. (He was growing too slow and clumsy for the sickles.) By this point he was ready for this whole ordeal to be over, to be able to move without all the weight and stiffness bogging him down.

"Listen, he's matured quite a bit since the last time you spoke with him. Breaking up with Feferi hurt him badly, and he turned to me." Kanaya was moving shiftily. She felt a lot more defensive about this situation than she needed to be: since when was it a crime to indulge emotional theatrics?

"And that was enough to make you take him in as a moirail?"

"He was... difficult to turn down."

"Needy tends to do that." Shaking his head, Karkat made a brusque little noise and tried to drop the subject. He didn't have the patience to start unravelling Kanaya and her pale affairs.

"On that topic, what happened with you and Gamzee?" Too late. The counterattack had begun. "As I have heard, you haven't maintained contact with him any better than the rest of us."

"Not that it's any of your business, but Gamzee and I had an understanding. ...We always agreed that the first one of us to get culled would get a break from the other. As in 'he's already dead, no point in antagonizing over him any more.' No survivor's guilt bullshit, no blaming the dead guy. Just... an understanding. Besides, he's probably found a better moirail by now. One that doesn't ditch him for perigees at a time."

"Let's be honest. Gamzee's too faithful and too lazy to go find a new palemate."

"God, you're right. Now I feel horrible."

"You could borrow my computer at any time. Send him an 'I'm still alive' message, perhaps."

"Somehow that seems worse then just letting him think I've dead." The way he tilted his body away and broke his usual steely eye contact told her Karkat was dying to navigate away from this particular argument. Kanaya decided to hold back on her barrage for now. He was already hurting enough for the next few nights, and she didn't want him to retreat again.

"Let's move on, shall we? There's another issue at hand..."

"Yeah: this freakshow."

"I prefer 'case' or 'anomaly.'"

"You're just looking for a chance to use your fancy dissection chainsaw."

"Now that's just morbid. One doesn't use a chainsaw for dissections, it's far too imprecise." She took note of the way he handled the stairs; carefully, sluggishly, as she led him to an odd little study just off the respiteblock. It featured a wall of bookshelves, another wall of windows and a pair of scaly leather armchairs. The floor was decorated with a large, circular woven rug, which sported an elaborate organic design. Karkat's first thought was that Kanaya had put way too much work into a hive that was just going to be razed and stricken from the map anyway. Just like her, to make an ordeal of something normal trolls find insignificant. His momentary disdain made him bold, encouraged him to hurl a few more facts at the chilly debacle.

"You wanna know the worst part of this whole thing? I haven't even pailed anyone yet. Dead serious." _("Might as well get that out in the open.")_ The way she spun around sharply gave him a peculiarly vulnerable feeling. Although she was staring inelegantly again, those dark green eyes still bored straight through him, and it made him uneasy.

"Are you sure?" Her question was more reactionary than planned.

"I think I would have noticed otherwise." Just beneath the curt expression he was kicking himself for making such a stupid, preposterous statement. Animals can make their own young, but even they have to mate with something first. She'd never believe him. "I know, I know. It doesn't make sense to me either. But I swear, I'd probably remember getting it on with someone, hiveless nutjob or not."

"That's certainly... interesting. And you're sure this is..." The word still hung in her throat. "...Pregnancy? There's no possibility you have some other condition?"

"This is not the first conclusion I came to. I did all kinds of research. I went through every book and searched with every computer I could get at. The first few perigees were basically a hypochondriac hell, trying to figure how soon I was going to die and what was killing me. After a while I just gave up and decided it was shitty genetics, come to finish off what natural selection failed to do."

"Well, genetic disorders usually start to express shortly after pupation. If that's all this is, it should have been apparent earlier. But if it's not a genetic issue and it's not a contracted disease, what could it be?"

"Hell if I know, Kanaya. It has to be genetics-based somehow, nobody I've heard of has had to put up with this shit. But I couldn't find anything remotely like it anywhere ...One thing I know for sure: the damn thing _moves_. It started about three perigees ago and barely stopped since then. It's fucking unreal. Like getting punched in the ribs from the inside."

"... I will admit, no illness I know of can do anything like that. There's palpitation, where the blood-pushing muscles malfunction and produce a sense of-"

"I know what I felt. It's nothing close to that." An excruciating silence filled the room. Kanaya was straining her thinkpan for another alternate suggestion; while Karkat was glaring her down with austere certainty. Finally, a roundabout theory occurred to her, and she turned to indicate the wall of shelves towering over them.

"Let me show you something." At the bottom of the largest bookshelf, a black lacquer box was nestled lovingly between the heavy volumes. When she pulled it out, he could see an iridescent Virgo sign engraved into the lid. She markedly did not let him touch it, but carefully opened the container and held its contents up to the light for him to see. The strange, dusky object was completely alien to him: an orb, a little smaller than his head, made of inky shell and covered with orange horn-like protrusions. Its was a confounding artifact, a perfectly spherical wad of spikes that commanded him to gawk until it forced him to admit he had no idea what it was.

"This is a matriorb. It was entrusted to me by my lusus, about two sweeps ago."

"Alright."

"The matriorb is an egg that will hatch a new Mother Grub. It's very rare and very valuable. Since I was a hatchling, my lusus and I had an agreement that when she died, I would take charge of the orb. She protected me from wigglerhood, and in return I swore that I would protect her own offspring in time."

"Okay. And why do I need to know about this?"

"Since you're clearly too shaken to recall something I've told you multiple times over the sweeps, allow me to reiterate. My lusus was a _virgin_ Mother Grub. She never accepted genetic material because she abstained and raised me."

"Then where did the egg come from?"

"Mother Grubs, like many animals, are capable of producing young without mating. It's a process which yields offspring genetically identical to the parent: essentially natural cloning. This is called parthenogenesis, which literally means _'the virgin birth.'_ "

"Sounds like an old lusus tale to keep hatchlings from playing with themselves."

"It's basic biology. Didn't it come up anywhere in your research?"

"I was looking more in the 'what am I dying from' section than 'gross things grubs do with their own bodily functions'."

"Think of how this could apply to trolls. The Mother Grubs have an intense symbiotic relationship with our kind, one that both species rely on for survival. Their physiology is very similar to that of our own wigglers, so it stands to reason that there's some sort of biological or evolutionary connection."

"You're just an expert on this charming subject."

"What I was trying to do is build to a hypothesis. If the Mother Grubs and trolls are so intensely connected, perhaps some biological anomaly, such as a blood mutation, could unearth that connection and the long-lost abilities that come with it."

"So once in a very rare occasion, a troll comes around who gets the privilege of reproducing with themself in the most horrible, gruesome way possible? Yeah, this sounds like it could be my life."

"Whether or not this is the cause, your... experience might be a rare opportunity to investigate the origins and potential of trollkind. The scientific possibilities are remarkable."

"And we're back to dissection. Since when were you a science authority? Last I remember, you were living in the land of shitty romance and rainbow drinkers."

"It's part of my job training, being a future brood nurse. All jadebloods are pretty much automatically assigned to the caverns, and it's important to know what's going to be expected of you. I studied up on troll history and biology to prepare for my inspection, as have most of the others."

"Seems like everyone's gone and gotten so much smarter, or stronger, or _something_ since I left. It's starting to look like I'm the only one who hasn't made any progress."

"You escaped being targeted by the culling drones, survived an entire sweep in the wilderness, and withstood an unprecedented medical phenomenon alone. If you ask me, you've accomplished more than any of our old companions."

"There's another one. That justification thing you do: you've gotten better at it too."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The broad windows of the respiteblock glimmered under lime and pink moons, and beneath them the two young trolls settled into the cushion pile. _("Again with the piles. Why do all the neurotic people have piles of shit?")_ An uncomfortable shift of the knees, a tap of the switch and the husktop whirred to life in the crevice between Karkat and Kanaya's pillow territories. Trollian was still running in the background as she began scrounging through various encyclopedia websites. She started with broad keywords like "biology", "unusual castes", and "mutation". When these failed to yeild useful results, she switched to more specific phrases like "reproductive anomaly", "congenital birth defects", _("Thanks, that sounds wonderful")_ and "abnormal troll physiology". The only information these terms returned was highly censored and blood-code blocked, though Kanaya had always assumed her clearance level was fairly high.

"Most of these are supposed to be public domain subjects. There's no reason for them to be sealed off like this." She kept hammering all kinds of passwords into her brower options, but was repeatedly met with the same frustrating 'webpage unavailable' message.

"Well someone's definitely determined to keep this stuff away from unprivileged eyes. What now?"

"We will call for backup."

grimAuxillatrix [GA] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

GA: Good Evening

CA: wwhat is it

GA: Nothing

GA: I Was Just Online And Thought I Would Take A Moment For My Darling Moirail

CA: cut the crap kan

CA: youre out for somefin

GA: No

GA: Well

GA: Just A Small Favor

CA: eh wwhat the hell

CA: i do kinda owwe you

CA: bein so cool for a landdwweller and all

CA: so wwhat are you after

GA: I Am In Urgent Need Of Certain Information

GA: The Archives Of Which Are Not Accessible To My Clearance Level

CA: holy shit 

CA: wwhat are you lookin for

CA: wwhy cant you find it on the normal servvers

GA: It Is A Delicate Situation

CA: again wwith the delicate situation hoofbeast shit

CA: seriously

CA: wwhat havve you gotten into

Karkat leaned over the screen, giving her an ugly look.

"Do you mind? This is a private conversation between moirails."

"Yeah, well anything festering in my abdominal cavity is also pretty damn private. I don't want fishfucker to know what's going on."

"Alright, alright. I will handle this carefully. No mention of you or your condition will be made."

CA: kan

CA: you there

GA: Yes

GA: My Apologies

GA: I Was Distracted

CA: so

CA: wwhere wwere wwe

GA: I Need The Classified Documents For Some Of My Personal Research

CA: jade blood stuff

GA: Precisely

"What's 'jade blood stuff' to him?"

"About ten perigees ago I convinced him that jade bloods are nearly on par with indigos in terms of social importance. It made filling a quadrant with me a little easier on him."

"I don't know whether to be impressed or disgusted."

GA: I Have Been Studying The Mother Grubs And Their Symbiosis With Our Own Species

GA: It Is A Fascinating Topic

GA: But I Do Not Have Access To The Higher Tiers Of Encyclopedic Servers

CA: say no more

CA: i got this

CA: wwhat sections do you need

GA: Let Me Think

GA: Reproductive Biology

GA: Reproductive Technology

GA: Mutations And Other Birth Defects

GA: And Anything Concerning The Mother Grubs

CA: shit

CA: wwhy dont i just pull the wwhole damn archivve

CA: okay okay

CA: givve me a minute

GA: Thank You

"That's it? That's all you had to do to get to classified documents?"

"Eridan is exercising an important social obligation; trusting his moirail."

"He may have learned some manners while I was gone, but he's still dumber than a rancid bottle of Faygo."

"See? Even after a whole sweep, you're still thinking of your own palemate."

"... Shut up and keep typing."

CA: man

CA: this is a pain in the ass

CA: its not lettin me savve or dowwnload any of these files

CA: fuck

CA: can i just take screencaps or somefin

CA: it wwould be a hell of a lot simpler

GA: Sure

GA: That Would Be Fine

GA: Anything Those Articles Link To Would Probably Be Classified And Therefore Useless To Me

GA: I Just Need To Read The Text

CA: okay then

CA: ill cap and send them noww

grimAuxillatrix [GA] ceased trolling  caligulasAquarium [CA]

caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling  grimAuxillatrix [GA]

CA: http://tinyurl.com/capone

CA: http://tinyurl.com/captwwo

CA: http://tinyurl.com/capthree

CA: http://tinyurl.com/capfour

CA: http://tinyurl.com/capfivve

CA: http://tinyurl.com/howwmuchofthisshitisthere

CA: http://tinyurl.com/seriously

CA: http://tinyurl.com/thisisstupid

CA: http://tinyurl.com/thatsit

CA: http://tinyurl.com/lastfuckinone

CA: there

GA: Thanks Again

GA: Youve Saved Me A Lot Of Time And Trouble

CA: wwhale just dont go blabberin about this to evveryone you see

CA: im really not supposed to do stuff like this

GA: Dont Worry

GA: You Are A Highblood After All

GA: Im Sure You Have Much More Freedom Of Discretion Than I Do

CA: true

"I can't believe you just got into Empire-censored archives by asking nicely."

"One would be surprised what that can accomplish. You should try it sometime." Little by little, the pages arrived, blurry and stripped of their article illustrations. The top of each one still showed Eridan's toolbar, with a flashing Virgo symbol and another one that made Karkat shudder soundlessly to himself. A Capricorn icon, also lit and demanding attention. He decided he would pretend he didn't notice it and stick to eying the pixellated text over Kanaya's shoulder.

Conjoined twins, hemophilia, Mother Grub growth cycles and a wide variety of gristly birth defects that made them both glad the images didn't show... But nothing on trolls having children, or even suggesting that scarlet blood was a thing that could happen. He kept grabbing the mouse out of her hand to scroll through the pages faster, but after a few minutes of futile scanning he surrendered and let her wrench the husktop back onto her own lap.

CA: so

CA: got wwhat you need

CA: i wwanna dump these screencaps off my drivve asap

GA: Go Ahead

GA: But Im Afraid I Havent Quite Found The Information I Need Yet

CA: wwell shit 

CA: if i dont knoww wwhat youre tryin to do i cant help you

GA: I Understand

GA: Im Sorry To Bother You

"Wait. One more thing."

"Yes? I'm open for suggestions."

"Try searching for someone called 'the Signless.'"

"Signless?"

"Yeah. Under history. Somewhere around the Evacuation Period."

"Alright."

GA: One More Thing

CA: yeah

GA: Can You Find Any Files On A Historical Figure Called The Signless

CA: okay

CA: ill check

caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased trolling  grimAuxillatrix [GA]

caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling  grimAuxillatrix [GA]

CA: coddamn it kan

CA: this says rank vviolet and abovve only

CA: seriously wwhat the hell do you need this for

GA: I Have Been Researching The Process By Which Genetic Codes Recombine

GA: And Found A Rumor That There Are Grubs Born Who Dont Fit Anywhere In The Spectrum

CA: really

CA: fuckin disgustin man

CA: i nevver heard a such

GA: Information On These Bizarre Cases Is Nearly Impossible To Find

GA: As A Brood Nurse

GA: Dont You Think It Would Be Important For Me To Know Everything I Can About The Hatcheries

CA: alright alright

CA: but i swwear if i get in trouble for this your ass is goin dowwn wwith me

GA: But Of Course

GA: Any Compromise To Your Posterior Spinal Crevice Has A Reflective And Equivalent Effect On My Own

CA: lovvely

CA: thats wwhat i wwanted to hear

CA: anywway

CA: i got one page from this search

CA: it says 'cult of the signless'

CA: here

CA: http://tinyurl.com/stickinmybulgeonthechoppinblockforyou

GA: You Always Were Creative With Titles

caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased trolling  grimAuxillatrix [GA]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the worst with chapter titles. It is me.


	5. The Pathway

"So... What's it like in there? Salty?"

"What?"

"That fish nook your head is currently jammed in."

"Be quiet. I found your information, didn't I?" He couldn't argue with results, which left him at an disappointing lack of things to argue over. This screenshot was very stark and blank: not even any odd-colored code ribbons where pictures would have been. The whole thing sounded dour and abiotic, more appropriate for a summary than a full article. It ran:

>PASSCODE RANK #6A006A ACCEPTED

>ACCESSING ARCHIVE

CULT OF THE SIGNLESS: RELIGIOUS ORGANIZATION, APEXED LATE CORONATION TO EARLY EVACUATION ERA [11350-11400]. KNOWN TO ADVOCATE TREASON, FERALIZATION AND DISLOYALTY TO THE EMPIRE. BANNED FROM PRACTICE 8TH BILUNAR PERIGEE 11355. ALL KNOWN ACTIVITY CEASED BY 13/11400.

SIGNLESS: GIVEN NAME UNKNOWN. ESTIMATED WRIGGLING APPROX. 11330, POSSIBLY IN THE 12TH BILUNAR PERIGEE. SUFFERED EXTREMELY RARE BLOOD MUTATION, PRODUCING A COLOR THAT DID NOT MATCH WITH ANY KNOWN HUE ON THE SPECTRUM. [RANK CODE #FF0000] ESCAPED NORMAL PRELIMINARY CULLING WITH AID FROM A MUTINOUS BROOD NURSE [RECCLAIMED AND TRIED 11369, REASSIGNED 11370.] SELF-STYLED PHILOSOPHER/REVOLUTIONARY, CAUSED MINOR DISCREPENCIES FOR IMPERIAL OFFICIALS AT THE END OF THE CORONATION ERA FROM 11340 TO 11369. EXECUTED ON 1/4/11369 ON GROUNDS OF PHYSICAL DEFECT AND ACTIONS AGAINST THE EMPIRE.

>PRESS HOME KEY TO RETURN TO MAIN PAGE

CA: holy shit

CA: i nevver kneww about this

CA: a troll wwho didnt fit on the spectrum

CA: just damn

CA: an wwhats this about a brood nurse

CA: wwhat the hell are you plannin kan

GA: Nothing

GA: I Was Simply Doing Research To Prepare For Inspection Night

CA: pretty sure inspection night has nothin to do wwith this

GA: Alright

GA: Perhaps It Was A Bit Personal

GA: An Investigation Conducted Out Of Morbid Curiousity

GA: But Can I Be Blamed

GA: It Is A Fascinating Case After All

CA: wwell you cant go snoopin any further than this

CA: ivve got vviolet levvel access codes an this is all i could find

CA: so it looks like your wweird ass research ends here

GA: It Appears So

GA: Thank You For Your Cooperation

GA: You Have Been Enormously Helpful

CA: anytime

CA: i guess

CA: as long as you dont make a habit out a askin me to do illegal shit

GA: This Is Certainly A One Time Request

CA: okay then

GA: I Have To Continue Work On My Hive Now

GA: There Is Much To Do Before Inspection Night

GA: And We Only Have A Few Perigees After All

CA: yeah i knoww

CA: ttyl kan

GA: Good Day

caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased trolling grimAuxillatrix [GA]

"So, this Signless thing wasn't much help." Kanaya closed the husktop, sinking back to cross her legs and straighten out the mass of her gown. "But we know he existed, anyway. I suppose that is a step in the right direction."

"Yeah. I was starting to think it was all an urban legend, like the one about the guy with concave horns."

"...How would that even work?"

"Ugh, when we were kids Sollux used to tell me that there was once a troll whose horns grew inward and bored into his thinkpan until he had to be mercy-culled for all the brain damage it caused. Captor is a morbid little creep."

"Oh, everyone hears their share of gorey hatchling rumors. But regardless, we now have archival proof that a troll referred to as 'Signless' did exist, and existed _outside the spectrum_. That's a pretty big discovery. How did you know about this, anyway?"

"Just something I stumbled on while running for my life. I was interested because the mark he used to sign stuff was the same color as my mine."

"And that was enough? Enough to make you remember him for a whole sweep?"

"You know, Vriska found that chest she never shuts up about. You have the mystical Virgo line to uphold, and your 'cluckbeast of the sea' is constantly bragging about his bloodline... But I've never seen my sign before. Anywhere. Even if it was just a mark in a freaky color, it was _the hint_ that I'm not the only one. That I wasn't just some random abomination to slither out of the caverns. I had every reason to remember him!"

"Okay, okay. I see what you're saying. I'm just sorry that I couldn't find more information." Neither of them paid much heed as the husktop started to escape, creeping further and further away in the avalanche of silky fabric.

"Not your fault the bastard was erased from history. I know you're gonna keep snooping around, but please, just do me one more favor and neglect to mention me. It's all too complicated and too messed up and it's just so much easier if everyone assumes I'm dead right now."

"Fair enough. Unfortunately, I doubt there's much anyone can tell us that Eridan didn't have access to."

"Just because he had access to it doesn't mean he's willing to make himself useful for once in his bulgesucking life."

"I am not getting into this argument with you." Her brows knitted just the slightest bit as she spoke. Once again they were both staring: malachite green grating and sparking against carmine red. And once again Kanaya's unfaltering gaze won out, making Karkat flinch away in unspoken resignation. "Anyway, the night's not over yet, and we have plenty of time to continue our investigation."

"The anticipation is so maddening. I could just perforate my own bulge with a fork to relieve the tension." For emphasis he flopped backward into the pillow pile, leaving his conspicuous belly exposed. His head lolled back carelessly as she eyed the narrow ribbon of bare grey skin peering out from under his stained and tattered shirt. As soon as she got the chance, that filthy thing was going to burn to dust.

"So... it really moves?"

"Huh?"

"The... wiggler, I guess. You said it moves."

"Like one of Gamzee's fucking acrobats."

"May I?" She raised a tentative hand, indicating the strange abdominal lump before her. Karkat raised his head lazily at the request.

"What do I look like, a goddamn pawbeast? Rolling around for a chance to lick master's boots?"

"Sorry, I was just curious."

"Ehh, what the hell. I gave up on self-respect perigees ago. Go ahead." Inching forward with meticulous caution, she gently placed a hand on his midsection and slid her fingers along its taut expanse. It felt firm and warm, warmer than any troll she'd ever come in contact with. They say that lower bloodtypes have higher body temperatures, and vice versa. Eridan, as she recalled from the occasional awkward, bony hug, was always cold as a dead fish. (Not that she held it against him.) But Karkat seemed to radiate heat from his scarlet-red core, though it was something else that made her own lukewarm pulse quiver in her throat. Something solid and very much alive squirmed just beneath her palm, bucking like a hoofbeast about to get branded. Kanaya's pupils shrank wildly at the sensation, every ounce of her nerve power concentrated in her fingertips. As she gawked her friend yawned and shifted his weight clumsily in the pillow pile.

"Damn thing always gets going when I lie down. I walked halfway across Alternia just fine, but as soon as I try to get a minute's rest it starts thrashing around like it's gonna fight its way out with sledgehammer." That was more than enough information to lash Kanaya's hand firmly to her lap again.

"I... wasn't sure if I believed you at first. When you arrived yesterday, you were clearly exhausted and saying crazy things. I thought you were delirious. But now..."

"Yeah, it's kind of hard to deny just how deep of shit I'm in."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was one thing he liked about the woodlands; the tree cover blotted out some of the insufferable sun. That was the only thing he liked about the woodlands. Walking through daylight was agonizing, but night travel promised wildlife and more unwanted troll attention. If not for the merciful shelter its canopy provided, Karkat would have happily mowed down the entire forest and turned it into lusus bedding. Insects poured from every feasible crack in the wood, stone and earth, and the heat that should have sent them hiding only seemed to aggravate them.

He couldn't risk another detour, even if he didn't know where exactly he was going. At this stage it was still primarily "away from wherever the drones were". Once or twice he swore he'd heard the ominous buzz of their thrusters as they flew from hive to hive to knock in the portholes and scare the crap out of whatever unluckly grub met them. They were definitely looking for him, he knew it, and he was making desperate attempts to erase his scummy mutant trail as he fled. As dusk began to bleed into the searing air, he stopped to rest his aching legs for a moment by the roots of a gargantuan tree. Clutching his grimy old dufflebag like it were his only friend in the world, he almost nodded off before being jostled alert by a low, reverberating growl.

Bolting upright, Karkat saw a huge cat crouching some twenty feet from him; its brilliant white fur contrasting starkly with the undergrowth. It growled again, this time less expectant and more hungry. Keeping both eyes on the beast, he reflexively groped around for the nicked scythes hanging at his belt.

"What is it, Pounce? Found something good?" A small troll came padding out of the brush, her hair a bolt of onyx-black against the cat's bristling coat. Her horns were little orange points in the curly snarl, and her features were as bright and soft as any webcam ever promised. "Hey! Who is it?"

"Her Condescention's illustrious personal asswiper."

"Karkat? Vantas?"

"Congratulations! You win! The prize is not sicking your horrible fang monster on me."

"Shh, Pounce. It's okay." The cat lowered her hackles a little, pretending to groom her face in disinterest without sheathing a single claw. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

"Hey, Nepeta. Remember the culling drones? The ones everyone was shitting foundational construction units over, five seasons ago? Trying not to get dissemboweled by them, is... what I'm doing here. So if you'll just call off catmom over there I will continue not dying and get out of your way."

"Oh, Karkat! Everyone thought you were dead!"

"I know, I know. Can we skip the magical reunion for now, 'cause I really want to keep moving while the sun is still hot enough to scald out my corneas."

"Come on, you can come back to my den. We have so much to talk about-"

"No, really. I just want to stay mobile. The drones are looking for me, it's dangerous at night, you don't want to get involved-"

"Nyansense! My den's the safest place in these woods, and Pounce will keep any unwanted visitors away. She's the best at it." Karkat was trying his best to back away from her offer, both figuratively and literally, but Nepeta's stinging concern had already burrowed into him. She looked just like she had when he departed, but her hair was long and wild now and she'd apparently gotten rid of that ridiculous blue hat. Pounce coyly licked her chops in agreement, and the feline pair began to drag him off toward their destination.

The interior of the hive was just as much of a cave as the outside. Initially he thought it was just a nest quarried into the side of the mountain: but no, it was a whole, natural cave system with random articles of furniture scattered about. "So were there any construction drones involved in this, or is it all just naturally this... like this?" He didn't know the words for sugarcoating 'freezing, rocky craphole'.

"The drones helped me move in, but I didn't want to change up this cave too much. It's purrfect the way it is, you know? Like a real huntress' den!" Nepeta offered to share some of her hand-cured meat, and Karkat, though wary of not knowing exactly what animals it came from, was too starved to refuse it.

"Yeah. Well, you've got me in here, against better judgement. What do you want?"

"Uhh, I don't know. I was just worried about you being alone in the forest. Maybe we could talk? About where you've been for the last half-sweep?"

"Fine, I guess. But I have to leave here by tomorrow night. I really don't want to draw the drones' attention."

"Okay..." There was nothing he dreaded quite like conversation clogged with cat puns and awkward pauses. _("Pawses. Bluh.")_ Thankfully the long, uncomfortable exchange of hurried questions and mumbled answers was cut short by Karkat scrambling outside to vomit his guts out. It wasn't the first time this had happened, just the first to have an audience. As much as he squawked at her to go away, the rattled catgirl heedlessly followed him into the shrubbery just beyond the mouth of the cave. His whole body shook and heaved abruptly, and the little hands' nervous pawing at his back made his skin prickle angrily despite the sweet coolness of the evening air.

"Oh, man! I am so sorry! I was sure that meat was good. It's never bothered me before - maybe you're just not used to it - are you okay?"

"Fucking wonderful. Could you stop touching me?"

"Sure. Sorry." She clasped her quick, tiny hands to her chest, face frozen in a collage of fear and worry. His insides were burning, the whole world was spinning and rocking madly around him, but he was going to try to avoid taking it out on the girl.

"Just... just gimme a minute. Please. Go away." Nepeta scurried off before she could catch his blistering gaze. Meeting Pounce at the entryway, she relented to clinging to her guardian's fur and watching Karkat from the distance. When he was certain there was nothing left to come up, and the horizon seemed to find an approximate place again, he staggered dumbly back inside.

The rest of the night was loathesomely quiet. He felt an ugly twinge of guilt for shunning his friend. _("None of this was her fault.")_ But he felt stronger about not being sick again, so he decided he was going to settle for clinging to the cold, lumpy cave floor and try to maintain some fragment of his pride through silence. At least lying down helped give him some solid support, something to hold onto as the waves of nausea crashed and rolled over him. These storms just came and went at random; it had been weeks since he could to eat anything without suspicion. All night his stomach tossed and turned on its own accord, and at times the twisting sensation felt like something foul and conscious writhing around inside him.

Above him he could feel the soundless steps of the big cat lusus, stalking in circles and eying him with protective dread. Her flawless white coat entered his vision on rare occasion, giving him the opportunity to inspect it and grimly recall his own custodian's gleaming chassis. Cats live longer than pincerbeasts, he'd gathered that, but watching Pounce slink around, vital and beautiful and full of love and fury still made his heart sink a little at every sound she hissed. He missed his nameless caretaker, his snarling crackling bulk, and lost in the watery green tint of Alpha moon, he felt lonelier than he'd ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, over 1,000 hits?! You guys are amazing. This site is amazing. Everything is amazing right now.


	6. The Hunt and Kill

They grow back, but it's the principle of it that galled him. Having a tooth knocked out by a musclebeast hoof to the face was not an experience anyone wanted to own up to. Originally, Karkat had approached the herd of ill-proportioned creatures in hopes of earning his first solid meal in nights, but the hunt had quickly turned into a vendetta match. In retrospect, (he was learning everything in retrospect those days,) attacking the **strong** herbivores hand-to-hand was probably a pretty stupid idea. But he didn't have access to any long-distance weapons, and he'd eat the battered remains of his husktop before he'd blow another perigee living off rabbits and lizards. (Granted, Alternian rabbits can punch through steel and carry things five times their own mass, but the point stands.) Even these vermin were sparse in the open grassland, as was most anything reliably edible. He was dying for real meat, and ready to fight for it. Anything to make his insides stop crawling. Besides, the ancient trolls, his own ancestors, must've done this a thousand times in their lives. How bad could it be?

After slinking up on the centaurine cluster as stealthily as he knew how, he had carefully chosen one from the group and tried to drive it away from the others. Shouting and swinging his scythes like an imbecile, he managed to get between the unlucky pick and its fleeing comrades. Once they were both a safe distance from the rest of the herd, he caught up with his target and lit into its flank before getting blocked from further attack by the aforementioned hoof to his face. It had bucked him square in the jaw, and the metallic grit in his mouth hinted that it dislodged a molar or two with the blow. However, a flash of brilliant blue, intense against the dusty coat, let him know his oppenent was injured too. He could almost picture Zahhak sweating over this brutality, the injustice of attacking such a beautiful and noble beast. But Karkat never cared too much about that snobby zoophile and his hypothetical judgement anyway.

Though he was not a big troll and probably never would be, he was half feral with rage and hunger while the animal was slow and fat. This wasn't a battle he would let himself lose. After righting himself and clutching his mouth for a moment in shock, Karkat slashed hard and threw his weight behind the blade. The beast hadn't been able to reel away fast enough, and his sickle's cracked but wicked edge pierced straight into its tough hide. Powerful, man-like arms swung to try and push the small assailant away, but he clung fast and buried the scythe further into his prey's sinewy flesh. He was practically riding the creature now, sprawled out over its odd back with all his strength focused on staying in that position. His ears rang with the awful noise it made; halfway between a scream and a horse's braying, but all it did was encourage him to slice deeper. God he hoped that sound would stop soon. Beneath pelt and muscle, the hooked end of his blade finally breached into something vulnerable and soft. With a quick jerk of his elbows, a wide irregular gash ripped open onto Karkat's last good shirt.

Whatever he had gotten hold of, it was sticky, wet and disgustingly tepid. His best guess was a hunk of liver. The recoil of pulling on his trapped weapon yanked him backwards and landed him headfirst on the rocky ground. Karkat barely had time to adjust his grip before wrapping his arms around his head, desperate to shield from the flurry of hooves and bony limbs raining down on him. When the beast reared up to try and crush him, he took the opening and lunged at its exposed belly.

His reward was more sticky foulness pouring from the ragged wound, and it flew everywhere. There, at the most inappropriate moment imaginable, he felt a hint of guilt for the wretched thing. Animal cruelty was never exactly on his to-do list, especially not the sort that involved lengthy brawls and all-too-literal bloodbaths. But his knotted stomach and weary legs had driven him to dire lengths, and though it made him ill to stare too long, he knew that he was more than old enough for this. Bleeding profusely and dragging entrails, it was barely a minute before the hulking creature collapsed for good.

He hoped that musclebeasts weren't sapient, and that he'd never find out if they were. Cautiously he crept toward the maimed body, checking to make sure it was thoroughly dead. Just to be sure, he brought his corroded weapon straight down on its milky neck. One quick, clean cut sliced straight through to the windpipe, and he was grateful to have at least that. The steps that Nepeta gave him began running through his head: lay the thing on its back, cut from the neck down to the crotch, pull out all the guts and shit, then get it out of there and clean it right before it rots. Done it plenty of times on grubrats. It was just the mechanics of dressing an animal bigger than him that posed a challenge. He hated the sight of blood. He'd always hated it.

By the time he had manuvered it onto its back, (the horse back; the upper torso just sort of folded haphazardly beneath it,) Karkat was absolutely caked in dirt, dried blood and other things he didn't want to think too hard about. The sickles were too cumbersome for this procedure, so he pulled out his old folding knife and braced himself for the worst. There is no properly describing the gristly ordeal that followed, or the effort it took him not to gag while he sifted through it. One peculiar bit stood out from the mess, though; an organ that didn't match up to anything he'd seen in his previous butchering adventures. Curious and eager to take his mind off the sordid feeling of being covered in animal guts, he nicked it open with the point of the knife.

What slid out would haunt him for untold days and nights to come. It was lumpy and bony and revoltingly flesh pink, with thin capillaries snaking across every inch of it. Round, blackish blue protruberances on the half-formed head showed him exactly where its eyes were going to be. Karkat's stomach turned sommersaults. He had gone hunting for survival, a totally justifiable endeavor, and wound up slaughtering the one animal that happened to be pregnant. Leaving the knife buried in gunk, he had to turn away for a moment to avoid vomiting. No, he couldn't be sick because there wasn't anything to come up. He'd gone this far, he couldn't stop now. It was one thing to kill an animal, it was wholly another to chicken out and leave it to die in vain.

Karkat went about the rest of his task silently and somberly. His hands were operating on their own, with no thought or feeling behind them. He watched himself work clumsily for the rest of the night, dimly hacking the meat from its bones and wrapping up as much of it as he could carry. When his bag was stuffed and thoroughly dyed navy-blue (it was grey when he bought it) he stumbled on his nonexistent path to try and find cover before dayfall. The remains were abandoned, splayed out in the grass, and as he left he felt the chilly midnight air whipping through his bones as if he weren't fully there. He wasn't.

Hives were scarce around these parts, and Karkat sincerely doubted any lusus worth its keep would let him within shouting distance looking the way he did. After some hours of walking in no particular direction, he finally came to the treeline where woodlands meet open fields. The foliage was thick enough to provide some shelter from the sun, so he decided to rest there for the day. Having burnt out long ago, the crappy lighter he once relied on had been discarded in favor of a simpler tinder box. Striking up a good fire was always a trial, especially on a windy night, but eventually he built up a serviceable campsite, firepit included, under the canopy of overgrown pastels.

All this time without regular access to a recuperacoon had made him a nervous mess, and he found himself zoning out more and more often as a result of sleep deprivation. His whole body was showing the side effects, craving soporific sleep as badly as food on some nights. Despite his lean diet, he noticed that he really hadn't lost weight in the last few perigees. The survivalist tricks he learned from Nepeta had saved him plenty of times, but he was still eating like a hiveless punk.

Everything he went through to get this food failed to make it more appealing, but his insides felt like a hollow chasm and he ended up downing a solid portion of his kill in one morning. It was stringy and tasteless, charred bare of any redeeming culinary qualities. Karkat might've been dirty, tired and scraping by in the middle of chute-fuck nowhere, but he was not a feral degenerate that ran around naked or ate raw meat. He still had _some_ dignity. _Some_ boundaries. He kept reminding himself that as he tried to keep the bitter meal down.

Early morning was one of the stillest and strangest times of day. All the wholesome nocturnal life was retreating before sunrise, while the hordes of undead and unnatural beings usually didn't come out till broad daylight. Alternia was never much in the way of diurnal life. Listening to the quiet crackling of the fire, Karkat was lost in thought; millions of miles away until a strange and insistent sensation wrenched him back into his own body. It was the tiniest, weakest little twinge of movement, fluttering low and irregular in his abdomen. This feeling wasn't completely new, per se, but he'd never focused on it so intently and it had certainly never been this strong. Surely it was his imagination, or another symptom of whatever illness had been tormenting him. Maybe it just meant he was about to loose his dinner again. But it kept going, getting sharper and more persistent then ever when he tried to lay down.

Finally, his brooding curiosity got the best of him. If this freakish perception were as real and solid as it seemed, he should be able to feel it on the outside too, right? Eager to prove to himself that whatever he was experiencing wasn't real, he gently tested the lower region of his stomach with one hand. It was still a bit more convex than it ought to be and holyshit it was moving. Something terribly real was squirming around, deep beneath the tissue - _his_ tissue. He had to freeze in that position for a while, hypersensitive to every feeble bump and turn quivering under his skin. All the parallels to that night's events were matching up horribly in his mind. The rest of the day was spent being driven in and out of sleep by the furious rush of thoughts and fears, along with his gristly, amorphous daymares.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rope stung and bit into his tattered skin, more than the bulky old cuffs did. It felt like his hands went through a meat grinder, and judging by all the puffy bruises and scars on his wrists they might as well had. Every step of the way he had soldiers pulling on him, yanking and shoving him at each corner to express their complete distrust in his ability to walk uninterrupted. He was just a simple mutant, after all; how could they know he wasn't completely feral-mad under those blazing red eyes? It wasn't their treatment that frightened him, though. He'd dealt with rough handling plenty of times before. What scared him was that the stakes were higher this time, and his hair stood on end with the dreaded scent of demise.

Instead of taking him straight out to the courtyard flogging jut, though, a sharp turn down a different hall hinted that they had darker plans. Shit. If he could just get to open air, maybe he'd have a chance at escape. (Who was he kidding: he was too heavy and clumsy to make a run for it.) His head was swimming with pain, fear, and most of all guilt. If he'd done one thing different, if he'd just held out a little bit longer, he wouldn't be in that position. _They_ wouldn't be in that position. All he could think about was how slow and stupid and sorry he was as the guards bodily forced him into an ominously clean chamber.


	7. The Cold Rift

A gust of polar air greeted him at the entrance. Bland white tiles dominated most of the floor space, and that was all he really got to see when they shoved him inside facefirst. His head made a ghastly thump when it hit the ceramic. No blood - that was good, he thought - but the coarse ropes digging into his arms made it difficult to right himself. Before he could get his bearings he was confronted again, this time by someone dressed in neat lab clothes rather than military garb. He only caught a glimpse of this person (tall, lean, moving too fast) before they circled behind him and grabbed a handful of his shirt.

"Well, let's see what you brought me." It was a woman's voice, sharp and sleek like the edge of a scalpel. She pulled him upright roughly by the back of his collar, and he grimaced at the icy feeling of a tiny pair of scissors clipping away at the ragged material. A few clean snips and his shirt fell away easily, leaving him kneeling half-naked in the middle of the refrigerated room. Instinctively he tried to curl up and shield himself, but it was pointless: the lanky troll was already studying him intently. Dismembering him with her eyes.

"Fascinating. Put him on the table."

The guards followed her commands faithfully. _("What bloodtype is she? Blue?")_ Both of them abruptly hooked him under one arm and hauled him onto the flat steel stretcher. He resisted. It was all he could do. With his hands useless behind him, he kicked wildly as soon as his feet were off the ground. But his whole body was tired and sluggish, and the three officers managed to finish restraining him without too much of a fight. Splayed out on the operating table, he was completely exposed as the strange woman paced around him eagerly.

"Uh, better tell you now... The commander says he wants this one **alive** when he gets to the flogging jut."

"What!? Why'd you even bother bringing him in? That's such a tease!" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This woman was a grown-ass troll, and apparently an important one at that, but there she was whining like a spoiled hatchling. These people had horrendous taste in leadership.

"Oh come on! A guy can't get something nice for his moirail?"

"Don't you pull that moirail crap on me-"

"Look, nobody said he had to be in good shape. Just alive. You can still check him out a bit: just make sure he's still in one piece when his number comes up."

"Hmm. How long do we get?" Her tone piqued upwards with a note of morbid intrigue.

"I don't know; the commander wasn't too specific. I figure as long as he's still breathing whenever they string him up, we won't get in too much trouble."

"Great! I can work with that. Thank you, Jebbah. You are the best palemate."

"I know." Their conversation made him want to gouge his sponge out. They had him sprawled out on his back, stripped of whatever pride he had left, and they were talking about him like a wriggling day present.

"Alright then. Let's have a look at you, shall we?"

" **Fuck you.** " He didn't have the energy nor the mental clarity to be creative at the moment.

"Not on your scummy little life." She made no effort to hide the contempt in her voice. Without further warning her gaunt hands were all over him. The clean latex felt cool and slick on his skin as she inspected every inch, only coming to rest on his bloated midsection. Stiff as a board, he held his breath and tried to wriggle away from her, but the restraints kept him pinned tightly to freezing steel. He wanted desperately to distract himself, watching the soldiers shuffle away out of the corner of his eye. Whatever she was planning to do, the coldness in her eyes and fingers made him shudder with badly contained fear.  
      
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
No matter how silly it looked, there was something private and sacred about two trolls in a pile of junk. Karkat felt sort of guilty; a little pale adultery had ruined countless beautiful relationships. It was a central theme in movies like _"Two Moirails Promise to Meet and Reunite After Juvenile Enlistment but are Separated and One Finds a New Pale Romance in a Higher Bloodtype and Considers Abandoning Their Old Moirail, Leading to Various Attempts of the Former Palemate to Win Her Back, Both Comedic and Occasionally Tragic."_ But being with Kanaya, even though it seemed treacherous, put his mind at ease for the first time in what felt like sweeps. (Well, as close to 'ease' as Karkat was capable of getting.)

After another short bout of unsuccessful research, they had agreed to put their work on hold and spend the rest of the night recovering in the safety of the pillow mountain. Kanaya picked up one of her sordid novellas (an old favorite, _"The Eurydice of Planet Mirach IV"_ ,) while Karkat settled on rummaging through her movie collection for something passable as cinema. By mid-morning she had nodded off, leaving him alone with the husktop and a terrible excuse for a paranormal romance. _("Ugh, the whole matesprit triangle was just a shallow excuse to tell a watery story about rainbow drinkers.")_

In the corner of the screen, a Trollian icon blinked enticingly. All the inappropriately pale moments of the last two nights had left him dwelling on his own moirail more than ever. Maybe, just for a minute, he could take the risk of telling Gamzee he was still alive. Gamzee was never the worrying sort, but Karkat could barely suppress his own fears of what had become of him in the perigees they'd been out of contact.

Just one message. Not even an e-mail, just a quick chat client note. He wouldn't even wait for a response. Simply throwing the idea out there that he wasn't dead would be all he needed to absolve his conscience. Hands jittering, he went ahead and logged into his old account before sense or cowardice could stop him. Shit - he was online.  
  
carcinoGeneticist [CG]  began trolling  terminallyCapricious [TC]  
  
CG: HEY, GAMZEE.  
CG: I JUST WANTED TO WRITE AND SAY  
TC: WhO ThE FuCk dO YoU ThInK YoU ArE?  
CG: WHAT?  
TC: I SaId, WhO Do yOu tHiNk yOu aRe mOtHeRfUcKeR?  
CG: I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THIS.  
CG: IT'S ME, YOU IGNORANT DOUCHEBAG.  
TC: LiKe hElL It iS!  
TC: I DoN'T KnOw wHo tHe fUcK YoU ArE.  
TC: but you ain't my palebro.  
TC: HE DIED. HE GOT HIS ASS CULLED AGES AGO.  
CG: GODDAMN IT MAN, CHILL OUT.  
TC: i will not  
TC: CHILL THE FUCK OUT  
TC: while some motherfucker's all impersonating  
TC: MY DEAD FUCKING MOIRAIL.  
CG: SHIT MAN, I'M SORRY.  
CG: I KNOW I'VE BEEN GONE WAY TOO LONG.  
CG: AND AM BASICALLY THE WORST MOIRAIL ON THE HISTORY OF THIS CHUTEFUCKING PLANET.  
CG: BUT YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME.  
CG: AND STOP DOING THAT SHITTY SCARY QUIRK YOU DO WHEN YOU FLY OFF THE HANDLE.  
TC: i don't know what you're talking about brother.  
TC: I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING WRONG.  
TC: just taking care of the memory  
TC: OF A SORRY ASS FRIEND  
TC: that went and died on me.  
TC: AND YOU ARE ALL UP AND INSULTING HIM.  
TC: so just tell me where your fucking hive is  
TC: AND WE'LL MAKE THIS SHIT QUICK.  
CG: GAMZEE.  
CG: STOP IT.  
CG: LOOK, YOU WANT PROOF?  
CG: WHEN YOU WERE TWO, YOUR LUSUS WOULD LEAVE YOU ON THE ROCKS FOR NIGHTS AT A TIME, WHILE YOU JUST STOOD AROUND LIKE A RETARDED WIGGLER AND WAITED FOR HIM.  
CG: HE WAS ALWAYS DOING SHIT LIKE THAT.  
CG: WHEN YOU WERE THREE, YOU WERE AFRAID TO GO IN THE FUCKING OCEAN BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT THAT SEADWELLERS WOULD TROLLNAP YOU AND FORCE YOU TO LIVE UNDERWATER WITH THEM.  
TC: ThE FuCk dO YoU KnOw aBoUt tHaT?  
CG: BECAUSE I TOLD YOU THAT, ASSHOLE.  
CG: I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUNNY SINCE YOU LIVED ON A FUCKING BEACH AND BASICALLY NEVER GOT AWAY FROM THE OCEAN.  
CG: BUT THEN YOU FREAKED THE HELL OUT OVER IT AND MY LUSUS MADE ME GO OVER AND APOLOGIZE.  
CG: AND I REALIZED THAT YOU WERE JUST THIS PATHETIC LITTLE BASTARD WITH NO LUSUS AND NO FRIENDS BECAUSE YOU WERE SO GODDAMN CREEPY.  
CG: AND I PITIED YOU.  
CG: I PITIED YOU SO FUCKING MUCH, AND ALL I'VE DONE IS GET YOUR HOPES UP AND LEAVE YOU OUT OF NOWHERE LIKE THIS GIANT PUTRID LUMP OF SHIT.  
TC: hOlY fUcK.  
TC: kArKaT?  
CG: YEAH.  
CG: AND I JUST WANT TO TAKE THIS MOMENT TO SAY AGAIN THAT I AM SO, SO SORRY FOR EVERYTHING.  
CG: YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO EARN A MOIRAIL AS CRAPPY AS ME.  
TC: I DoN'T BeLiEvE It.  
TC: ...  
TC: iF tHiS aIn'T tHe BiGgEsT mOtHeRfUcKiNg MiRaClE tHe MeSsIaHs EvEr DeLiVeReD!  
TC: WhErE tHe HeLl HaVe YoU bEeN aLl ThIs TiMe BrO?  
TC: yOu HaVe No IdEa HoW hArD wE aLl LoOkEd FoR yOu.  
TC: We WeRe DiGgInG aRoUnD aLl OvEr YoUr HiVe.  
TC: i EvEn GoT eQuIbRo To HeLp  
TC: BuT nO oNe FoUnD a FuCkInG tHiNg  
TC: aNd We AlL tHoUgHt FoR sUrE tHeY'd GoNe AnD cUlLeD yOu. :o(  
CG: WELL, THEY DIDN'T.  
CG: THEY SURE AS HELL TRIED, BUT THEY DIDN'T.  
CG: I HAD TO STOP WRITING TO EVERYONE FOR A WHILE, TO KEEP THEM FROM TRACKING ME.  
TC: Oh, LiKe TwItChYbRo HaD tO sToP hIs CoMpUtEr ShIt WhEn ThE dRoNeS wErE aLl Up AnD kIlLiNg PeOpLe.  
CG: YEAH, LIKE THAT. ONLY THEN MY PIECE OF SHIT CRABTOP BROKE AND I COULDN'T CONTACT ANYONE.  
TC: hArSh MaN.  
TC: So WhErE aRe YoU nOw?  
TC: wHaT aLl'S gOiNg On WiTh My MoThErFuCkInG bEsT fRiEnD?  
CG: I'M AT KANAYA'S PLACE.  
CG: LOOK, IT'S A LONG STORY.  
TC: BuT aLl KiNdS oF wIcKeD i BeT. ;o)  
CG: NOT REALLY.  
CG: BUT IF YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW  
CG: GET YOURSELF A TOXIC WASTE PIE OR SOME SHIT, CAUSE THIS IS GONNA TAKE A WHILE.  
TC: sIcK bRo, I aIn'T nOtHiNg BuT a PaIr Of AuTiCuLaR sPoNgE cLoTs RiGhT nOw.  
      
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
She didn't even allow him the privilege of keeping his trousers. No, that would have been much too dignifying. Instead, he was stretched out stark-naked, defenseless to the growing array of pricks and prods and intruding touches. His joints were sore from straining against the tight belts, and his pulse was racing painfully under dreadful anticipation.

"Remarkable. I never imagined a troll could be capable of producing eggs, much less retaining them ovoviviparousily."

"I know, I'm just a fucking wonder of nature." Sarcasm was his only means of feigning control at that point.

"No one told you to talk. God, I just wish I had more time to work on you: there's so much we could learn! Those idiots in the court have completely failed to recognize a priceless research opportunity. I could've done ultrasounds, blood tests, amniocentesis... But I guess we'll just have to make due with what we've got."

Those caustic blue eyes were eating into him. Whoever this woman was, she knew as much about psychological suffering as she did physical pain. Every second she spoke, she drew out the syllables, picking the words carefully to inflict as much anxiety as possible. There were no more rebuttals; he was just struggling to keep his composure.

"If I knew I had time, I'd start the parturition process right here so it could be observed and recorded. Hell, the higher-ups might get a kick out of seeing you birth a grub in the middle of the courtyard. But as long as I have you to myself, I think I'll just skip straight to the next logical step: vivisection."

 _Oh god._ He wasn't familiar with that particular term, but it was close enough to 'dissection' to get the idea across. There were needles and scalpels in the immediate future. His eyes darted around furiously as she closed in on him again, now wielding something that glittered clean and sharp.

The bitter sting of an injection, just above the edge of his pelvis, made him cringe deeply before all the sensation left his lower body.

"It's just a local anaesthetic. After all, we can't just leave the famous _Signless_ to languish through an operation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I should just rename this chapter "tL churns out an extra update this week to confess her latent medical phobia."


	8. The Incision

It was a long and frustrating battle to explain to Gamzee such fun expeditions as skinning musclebeasts and wrangling with the unholy hordes of daylight. Talking to him all night would have been cathartic if it weren't so maddening. Karkat missed how much he hated Gamzee's nonsense.  
  


CG: AND IF YOU TYPE "MIRACLES" ONE MORE TIME I'M GOING TO HUNT YOU DOWN LIKE A PAWBEAST AFTER AN OBESE GRUBRAT.

TC: I wOuLd Be CoOl WiTh ThAt BrO. :o)

CG: YOU ARE INSUFFERABLE.

TC: hEhEhE.

TC: sO wHaT's KeEpInG yOu OuT tHeRe?

TC: In ThE dEsErT aNd ShIt.

TC: KaNaYa'S a NiCe ChIcA aNd AlL, bUt YoU sHoUlD'vE cOmE dOwN tO tHe BeAcH iF yOu WeRe HiVeLeSs.

CG: IT'S MORE COMPLICATED THEN THAT.

CG: WHEN I LEFT, I DIDN'T WANT TO DRAG ANYONE DOWN WITH ME, YOU KNOW?

CG: HALF THE PEOPLE I KNOW ARE CRIPPLED, BLIND, OR ROT-PANS.  


TC: TrUe ThAt.

CG: IF I WENT TO SOMEBODY ELSE'S HIVE, I'D BE LEADING THE DRONES STRAIGHT TO THEM.

CG: RUNNING OFF INTO THE WILDERNESS MAKES ME A PRETTY SHITTY MOIRAIL, BUT NOT AS MUCH AS HANDING YOU OVER TO SOME FURIOUS TROLL-SHREDDING MONSTERS.

TC: yEaH, i FeEl YoU.

TC: bUt StIlL, yOu ToOk CaRe Of Me WhEn I wAs AlL kInDs Of FuCkEd Up.

TC: So It'S aLl Up AnD bReAkInG mE aPaRt, YoU kNoW?

TC: lEaViNg My BeSt PaLeBrO oUt On HiS oWn.

CG: IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT.

CG: YOU HAD NO PART IN THAT DECISION.

CG: I'M SORRY FOR DITCHING YOU.

CG: I UNDERSTAND JUST HOW HORRIBLE THAT SOUNDS, BUT I AM.

TC: WeLl, i GuEsS i'M sOrRy I cOuLdN't Do AnYtHiNg.

TC: So We'Re BoTh JuSt A cOuPlE sOrRy MoThErFuCkErS.

CG: YEAH.

CG: THAT'S A GOOD WAY OF PUTTING IT.

TC: aH hElL.

TC: i GoTtA gO mAn.

TC: TaV's BeEn TrOlLiNg Me FoR tHe LaSt ThReE hOuRs.

TC: MuSt Be SoMeThInG iMpOrTaNt.

CG: SURE, GO FOR IT.

CG: YOU CAN EXPLAIN THAT WHOLE TRAINWRECK TO ME LATER.

TC: WiLl Do, BeSt FrIeNd.

TC: <>

CG: <>   
  
carcinoGenetesist [CG] ceased trolling terminallyCapricious [TC]  
  
      
Even in the darkened room, the florescent screen made his eyes sting. Kanaya snored softly from somewhere in the pile, and Karkat stayed up for some time watching her paranormal film travesties but not really paying attention to them. He'd tell Gamzee eventually. Of course. Moirails don't keep shit from each other, after all. He just had to... think of the right way to word it. _("Oh yeah, by the way - I'm also busy gestating a demonspawn. So what's up with you and Tavros?")_ Trollian and all its facets were shut off immediately; he didn't have the energy to deal with two confessionals in one night.  
      
The quiet early-morning atmosphere seemed to agitate the grub from its brief lull. Karkat sighed, a bit louder than necessary, as it tossed and turned feverishly inside him. In the last perigee his symptoms had become virtually debilitating, and all he could think about was how eager he was for this torture to be over. To be able to move and run and fight unimpeded. Being so useless, especially to the point that he had to rely on Kanaya, was threatening to drive him insane. His body had become a prison, one that weighed him down more every night and ate away at him with doubt.    
      
It hadn't even been born yet, and this wretched thing had already ruined him worse than anything he'd ever gone through. What was he going to do with a wiggler? The practical side of him kept whispering bleak directions: _"Bury that abomination. Leave it in the desert as soon it comes."_ Spare it a life like his, or worse - a life with **him** as its guardian. Poor creature never stood a chance.  
      
Would it really be that simple? Borrow some of Kanaya's gardening tools, take the little monster as far out as he could walk in one night, dig a nice deep pit and be done with it. He was a troll, for god's sake; it's not like anyone expected him to have the faintest hint of parental instinct. But it would be that simple. So terribly easy, just to crush its tiny head before it even knew where it was. The thought made his bloodpusher pound in a very disconcerting way. Karkat had done plenty of things he wasn't proud of since the drones came, but killing a defenseless grub was one measure he just couldn't forgive himself for.  
      
He was experienced in getting by on pathetic amounts of sleep, but he decided to take advantage of the precious slime as much as he could while it was still viable. (Ablution traps lack the important filtration mechanisms of a proper recuperacoon.) Climbing into the shallow vat, Karkat shivered slightly at the beautiful, familiar feeling of sweet sopor creeping into his cuts and bruises. The desert was a breeding ground for undead, and fending them off en route to Kanaya's hive had been a trial he did not want to enjoy again any time soon. As the noise of shifting fluid bubbled in his ear, his mind wandered again to the gaping hole in his future.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
It felt less like he was being cut open and more like he was just standing by, watching some poor miserable bastard getting carved up on that frozen steel slab. He wanted to be as far away from his body as possible, but every now and then a glint of livid red on the knives would flash into view and reclaim him. Goad him. Remind him exactly why he was there, being toyed with and invaded by yet another highblood psychopath.  
  
She was surprisingly skillful for a butcher. Each incision was clean and careful, slicing a little deeper in accordance to the elaborate patterns running through her head. At least she wore gloves and a mask, though she didn't bother to do anything about the wild tangle of hair hanging down her shoulders. Her features, her eyes, her bony hands... He was watching her every move intensely, hoping to suppress his growing fear and panic.  
  
Suddenly, something deep under his abdomen gave way. The sound was soft and wet, but definite enough that both of them noticed it and its apparent significance immediately. _What-was-her-name_ smirked beneath her mask, setting the scalpels aside to probe in with her fingers. Signless swore he could feel his heart stop as she dug around and gripped onto something harshly with the tips of her filmy-covered talons. With one smooth, swift motion, she yanked upwards and ripped a scarlet, gory, _(moving)_ hunk from the chasm in his belly.  
  
A tiny, feeble noise seemed to make the whole compound to go silent. It warbled, thin and strangled, as the blueblood turned her back to the table and strode across the room with a nasty aura of self-satisfaction. He struggled weakly against his bonds as he tried to roll over and face the watery cry, but the straps wouldn't give. All he could do was crane his neck to catch a glimpse of her, fiddling with the blood-drenched cloth bundle. Every ounce of him wanted to fight; to rush that loathsome woman and claw her face off with his last breath. _("Give it back, give it back, oh god get the fuck away I'll kill you-")_  
  
Eventually she looked to be content with the squalling newborn and deposited it calmly in a metal tray before returning to suture his wounds. She talked as she worked, something about it being unusually large and that she was glad she just went ahead and cut it out, but none of her words registered with him. He was on the verge of passing out, either from blood loss or pure shock, but he kept his gaze locked firmly on the desk against the wall.  
  
The patronizing tone of her voice as she pretended to care about sewing him up made his insides feel hotter than a furnace and blacker than tar. All he could think about was getting one hand on his grub and the other around her throat. Though physically and mentally exhausted, he focused on that thought as the guards dragged him away, their rough hands careless of his aching stitches.


	9. The Intrusion

grimAuxillatrix [GA]  began trolling  cuttlefishCuller [CC]

CC: )(ey Kanaya! Long time no sea!

GA: Good Evening Feferi

GA: How Have You Been

CC: Not bad. 38)

CC: Water you )(ere to talk about?

GA: I Was Just Curious As To What Youve Been Doing

GA: It Has Been A Few Weeks After All

CC: COM---------E ON.

CC: You are t)(e best at contacting people w)(en you need somefin.

GA: Thats A Little Unfair

CC: )(ey, it's cool.

CC: You took Eridan off my fins, after all.

GA: I Wouldnt Word It Quite Like That

GA: But Im Glad I Could Be Of Aid

GA: Heiress

CC: )(aw )(aw.

CC: 38P

GA: Are You And Sollux Doing Well

CC: W)(AL--E...

CC: It's complicated.

CC: )(e's gotten all gloomy lately.

CC: All )(e does is mope around and feel sorry for )(imself.

CC: Worried t)(at t)(ey're gonna make )(im a glubbing )(------ELMSMAN.

CC: Like I'd let t)(at )(appen!

GA: Well

GA: He Was Always A Pessimist

CC: Cod, I'm sorry Kanaya.

CC: T)(at just kinda slipped out.

CC: 38(

GA: Its Perfectly Fine

CC: So now t)(at I've spilled my collapsing and expanding aquatic vascular system out

CC: )(ow can I kelp you?

GA: Coincidentally I Am In Need Of Some Obscure Information

GA: The Likes Of Which You Might Have Access To

CC: S)(OR--E! 38)

GA: I Am Looking For Any Information On A Person Called The Signless

GA: He Was A Historical Figure From The Evacuation Era

CC: Signless...

CC: T)(at name is SO familiar.

CC: I feel like I've )(eard it somew)(ere, but I can't remember.

GA: I Was Researching Blood Types And Other Biological Principals To Prepare For Inspection Night

GA: And I Came Upon An Article About A Troll Who Didnt Fit On The Spectrum

CC: R--E--ELY? 38O

CC: T)(at's crazy!

CC: )(old on.

CC: I don't )(ave anyt)(ing about )(im specifically, but I t)(ink I've got somefin t)(at mentions )(im.

CC: I know! 

CC: It's in one of my books.

GA: Wait

GA: Books

CC: Yea)(.

GA: Underwater

CC: Y--EA)(!

GA: How Does That Work

CC: T)(ey're all laminated. 38)

GA: Oh

CC: So )(ang on a little bit and I'll look it up for you.

GA: Thank You 

GA: Sorry For The Trouble

CC: It's not)(ing, reely.

CC: I'll be back in a w)(ile.

grimAuxillatrix [GA] ceased trolling cuttlefishCuller [CC]

Perhaps it was a little inappropriate tackling research projects on her own time. But several nights and late days of searching through Kanaya's repertoire of encyclopedias yielded few results, and she was impatient to find something before their time ran out. Karkat's condition seemed to decline by the hour, though he went out of his way to avoid expressing it. He kept to himself as much as possible, spending most of his time asleep or pacing around the hive anxiously. The air was filled with a static charge that comes with waiting on the unknown.

cuttlefishCuller [CC] began trolling  grimAuxillatrix [GA]

CC: Found it! 38D

GA: Excellent

CC: I could send you pics of t)(e pages, but it would probably be simpler if I just glubbed all t)(e interesting parts.

GA: Fair Enough

CC: T)(e book's called "Book of t)(e Disciple".

CC: It's so D--ECR--EPIT it's angling to fall apart.

GA: Thats Not Surprising

CC: Yea)(

CC: So w)(at parts were you interested in?

CC: It's a big old t)(ing.

GA: Hmm

GA: Is There Anything On How The Signless Lived

GA: Literal History As Opposed To Philosophy And The Like

CC: Gotc)(a.

CC: It says )(e was )(atc)(ed some time around 11330, and )(e never )(ad a lusus.

CC: )(e was raised by a compassionate brood nurse w)(o rescued )(im from the )(atc)(ery.

CC: T)(is sounds like a wiggler's story. 3X)

GA: Please Continue

CC: Signless was a revolutionary w)(o believed in t)(e rig)(ts of all trolls, regardless of blood type.

CC: Yea)(, I remember flipping t)(roug)( t)(is book a few times w)(en I was younger. It got me to t)(inking about )(ow I wanted to run t)(ings as ')(er Condescence'.

GA: You Could Certainly Have Worse Influences

CC: If you go by most people's rules, I am up to my gills in BAD INFLU---ENC---ES.

CC: )(--E--E )(--E--E.

CC: So anyway, )(e travelled all over Alternia teac)(ing and spreading )(is p)(ilosop)(y.

CC: T)(ere were lots of times )(e almost died! 38O

CC: But )(e was smart and )(ad good comrades, so )(e always made it.

GA: This Does Sound Like A Wigglers Story

GA: Only With Less Disembowelings

CC: Rig)(t?

CC: W)(ale, )(ere is w)(ere it gets weird.

GA: How So?

CC: I t)(ink it's a metap)(or or somefin, but it doesn't make muc)( sense.

GA: What Exactly Does It Say

CC: I'll quote it: "Thoug)( )(e gave birt)( to four c)(ildren, only one survived."

CC: W)(at does T)(AT mean?

CC: Do t)(e wigglers... symbolize somet)(ing?

GA: I Dont Know

GA: That Is A Strange Passage

GA: Does It Say Anything Else

CC: You s)(ore are interested in t)(is Signless guy and )(is freaky )(ypot)(etical musclebeast grubs.

GA: Its All Brood Nurse Research

GA: What If Another Mutant Comes Along

GA: I Should Be Able To Recognize These Things

CC: And be t)(e crazy )(atc)(ery lady w)(o saves it?

GA: No

GA: I Am Investigating Purely Out Of Scientific Curiosity

CC: Okay, okay. I guess I s)(ouldn't pry.

CC: Besides, t)(e crazy brood nurse seems pretty cool, according to t)(is writer.

CC: So I've been t)(inking: w)(y don't I just s)(ip t)(e w)(ole book out to you?

GA: Of Course Not

GA: That Would Be Far Too Much Trouble

CC: Not as muc)( as transcribing t)(e w)(ole t)(ing to you.

GA: Its Certainly A Valuable Book

GA: I Couldnt Possibly Take It From You

CC: You're not taking it.

CC: Just borrowing. 38)

CC: I trust you to take care of t)(e old plastic rag for me.

GA: Thank You Very Much Feferi

GA: You Have Been More Help Than I Couldve Ever Guessed

CC: Anemone time.

CC: I'll send it off as soon as Eridan comes back wit)( some lusus snacks.

CC: S)(e gets so ORN-------ERY w)(en s)(e's )(ungry, you know.

cuttlefishCuller [CC]  ceased trolling 

This conversation lead to another lengthy archive binge through the academic websites, rereading the pages on Mother Grubs and rare blood types for the fifth or sixth time. Kanaya's ghoulish fascination had completely surrendered to worry, making her more determined then ever to root out a way to help. _Help dammit_. She was was not meddling as long as he came to her first, and she made sure to reiterate that to herself whenever necessary.

Around the respiteblock were littered her countless projects, now thrown out of priority and into clumsy disarray. Patterns for dresses had been discarded in favor of biology texts; but with a few minutes to herself, Kanaya decided to recover them if only for a little recreational sewing. The rags he'd worn when he arrived were shameful, and despite the vast improvements in quality, Karkat didn't take particularly well to borrowed clothes either. _("Skirts, Kanaya. I draw the line at fucking skirts.")_ Gathering up a bolt of cerise fabric that had somehow gotten unraveled halfway across the room, Kanaya let her thoughts drift for a moment to just how well warm colors would suit him.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She was enraged. No, that's not the right word. 'Rage' implies some kind of emotional variety, perhaps even reason, behind it. She was **furious**. A small woman, all knotted black mane and sharpened claws, tore through the facility like a vicious green flash of teeth and pain. Any time someone crossed her line of sight, she would spring into them and hack away at any exposed skin with her bare hands. This would go on until the offender was either dead or just stopped responding to her blows. Unabashed and wild, she had no remorse for these people or for anyone now. With god as her witness, this was just _the beginning_ of their retribution.

Her name was Regula Simmha, and she no longer cared whether she lived or not. Everything she loved was commandeered three nights ago, in front of a small audience of highbloods and onlookers. All her friends were auctioned off to shadowy buyers, while her mate had been tied up, humiliated, and shot before her eyes. There was absolutely nothing left for her to lose, and the little troll's entire being had been reduced to a whirling hurricane of bloody revenge. If she was about to die or go insane, she would make damn sure that she mauled as many enemies as her body would allow before that happened.

Feral trolls are a strange and complicated phenomenon, dating back as far as Alternian history dared to recall. The most commonly accepted theory is that it's some kind of defense mechanism: a biological default mode evolution had saved for times when a troll couldn't afford to worry about anything but survival. Nearly half their brains would shut off by the end of the feralization process, and they'd be reduced to growling, stupid creatures who could barely stand upright. They'd tear at friends and foes alike with their teeth, shameless and pointlessly aggressive. Such trolls were typically culled on sight, having lost their sense of reason or higher thought and being virtually impossible to rehabilitate. (Not that anyone would waste the time or money to try.)

As of this point in time, Regula was a solid sixty percent feral. She had just enough mental function to recall why she was fighting, and what the shouts and cries of her opponents were supposed to mean. But none of it meant so much to her as the sheer, blissful feeling of flesh ripping under her hands. The blood on her hands was warm, cool, sickly tepid. It didn't matter anymore. By the time chance lead her into the freezing medical wing, her clothes were a tapestry of livid greens and blues and browns.

The stench of rot and disinfectant made her want to choke. Infirmaries were never the largest or most elaborate sector in a military base. (It was usually more practical to either patch up the troops haphazardly on the battlefield or just let them go if their injuries were too severe.) Most of the rooms were barely cubbies split off of the main hallway, their refrigerated closeness inflaming her acidic thoughts. Even in her frenzied state, the moans and murmurs of the dying didn't appeal to her. Instead, she charged straight down the corridor, stopping at the entry to a small but eerily quiet chamber.

At the empty doorway, Regula paused for a few seconds to catch her breath and let her eyes adjust to the buzzing incandescent lights. Everything was bright and cold and sterile, and it made her chest itch inside with animal bloodlust. It took her a moment to realize that the room was occupied by a tall, lanky female. Standing with her back to the door, she didn't seem to notice the intruder; too absorbed in her work to pay much attention to the outside world. Below her, on a grubby steel lab desk, something squirmed and resisted against her spindly hands.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This pesterlog bout has taught me something: I am an HTML masochist. Also, I keep hitting the post button before I'm done editing for some reason. 3_3;;


	10. The Onset

As with anything concerning clothes, Kanaya was right about the warmer colors. Most of the new wardrobe was populated with loose, repurposed articles and simple cuts, let out to maximize comfort. Her half-willing model wasn't too keen on the idea of broadcasting his mutant status everywhere, so they had to settle on milder hues. (That she might have tacked some brighter accents onto because _really_ , one can't wear nothing but neutral tones for the rest of their life.)  
  
As she tugged an excess thread loose, her pleasant sewing zen was interrupted by a flat groan.  
  
"How much longer? I have to pee."  
  
"Hold still. I just have to finish the hem and you can go."  
  
"So... Have you ever made clothes for someone else? I mean, not that I don't appreciate it, but I never asked and-"  
  
"I know. It's been a long time since I've made anything for someone other than myself. Every now and then it's good to have a bit of a challenge."  
  
"Kanaya?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You don't have to do this. Any of this. I'm not your moirail, and none of this should be your problem. ... I don't even know why I came out here. It wasn't fair for me to just show up after being dead for a sweep and force this shit on you. As a decent, self-respecting troll, you officially have the authority to tell me to fuck off and go back to your life."  
  
"Quiet. I won't hear any of it. Some people are capable of helping others without obligations, and lucky for you I am one of those trolls." Karkat's stomach fluttered; though Kanaya was doing her best to rationalize it, he couldn't shake the guilty feeling that came with such blatant pale infidelity.  
  
"But I'm still with Gamzee. You know that, right?"  
  
"Of course. And I'm still with Eridan."  
  
"... So what are we doing?"  
  
"Pardon my saying, but considering everything they've done, we still look damn exemplary compared to our respective palemates. We're friends. We're doing what friends do and helping each other." She jabbed him lightly with the end of her scissors to emphasize the point.  
  
"Well, I'm sorry. For everything."  
  
"Stop apologizing." Her hands lingered longer than they needed to around the collar seam. Karkat couldn't stand it anymore. After all that had happened in the last few days, _(weeks? Too many late days and weird sleeping habits had mangled his sense of time,)_ he would not allow Kanaya to keep hogging the consolitory role. This time he wrapped an arm over her, pulled her head to his shoulder, and they held each other: not as moirails or mates, but something else entirely.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
With a flutter of white labcoat, the tall Physiciseveror unknowingly waved the checkered flag for a madwoman to start her assault. Right as she turned to retrieve a clean syringe, something small and bony pounced straight into her side, forcing her to the ground. She barely had time to block her own fall before the trespasser was on her with broken, splintered nails digging into her skin through the sleeves.  
  
Underneath the bleach and medicine smells, the whole room was rank with blood. Every animal sense in the roots of her brain was screaming, and Regula could barely process information enough to discern where to strike next. The eyes. The eyes would be the first to go.  
  
Shifting her weight, she tried to pin her opponent beneath her hips and free her hands, but all she did was give the other troll an opening to grab at her. Soon the two were locked claws-to-throat, and it was only pure adrenaline that allowed Regula to finally pry past the others' wrists and into her face. Sharp thumbs dug into livid blue eyes, quickly dissolving them into useless cobalt mush.  
  
The rest of the skirmish was a dizzy blur of jabbing knees and raking claws. Every tile around them was painted with elaborate speckled patterns of moss against ultramarine. Regula pressed down like a vice into the blueblood's jellied eyesockets, clinging to the thrashing mess until she heard a gruesome pop. With that the flailing slowed, blows became lighter and dumber, and eventually the stranger ceased protesting altogether.  
  
For a few moments there was a deathly silence, where all the sound in the world was drowned out by the ringing in her skull. Maybe the vile woman had struck an ear at some point in the fight. Her back burned like acid as raw wounds came into contact with open air. Slowly the spinning room seemed to align itself, and the smothering stillness was cut by a tiny, quivering cry.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
His feet ached. His back ached. His head wasn't bothering him at the moment, but he could sense it conspiring. Everything hurt in some odd way or another, so a new little pain was nothing remarkable to him. Karkat retreated into the ablution block; he wasn't tired and the sopor was probably stale already, but he needed to hide somewhere quiet for a while. Kanaya was terribly accommodating of his condition, and even blocked off the beautiful high-arched windows with sheets to cut some of the light. Though her efforts were amiable, Karkat couldn't stomach so much pity in one go. His broken and battered pride just wouldn't allow it.  
  
Sitting with his back to the wall, he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples stubbornly as if it would ease the stabbing in his belly. _Fuck._ He was sore from raging battles that he hadn't even fought. The instincts that saved him several times over the last sweep were boiling over, filling his head with weird, blasphemously ancient feelings. All he wanted was to collapse in a pupal position and be left alone, preferably someplace dark. Electric lights were designed to be easy on nocturnal eyes, but he left them off all the same. Clutching his head, Karkat exhaled slowly, each breath coming longer and more ragged than the last. He could almost feel his own heartbeat in every toe and fingertip; and he sat still as a brick waiting for something horrible to start.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
It felt like ages before she could rise to eye level with the table. What met her was a tiny heap, a mound of intense cherry red skin that turned and writhed helplessly on the metal surface. A grub, not even old enough to crawl, was lying on the work bench surrounded by strange and ominous-looking tools. She recognized the color instantly. There was only one person in the world with that bloodtype.  
  
Regula had seen a grub like this before, but it was too small to really be compatible with life. A few nights after it was born, it died as suddenly as it came. That miserable thing had left a scar on both her and Acuben. He was never quite right from then on. It always haunted her to think what he might have been like without this curse; these random, crippling bouts of physical and psychological pain that gave him so much hope and so little reward. It also ate at her to wonder how things would be if the child had survived.  
   
As she scooped up the mewling wiggler _("careful, careful, watch the claws forgodssake don't fuck this up")_ all the dark and rending memories knocking around in her head seemed to jam her brain back to some kind of order. Her thoughts coagulated and crystallized around the grub, and she pressed it to her chest as if she were holding back her own creaking ribs. The mind that had almost fallen to animal-sized peices was madly reassembling itself around it - around protecting it, and her mate's legacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't change POV enough. Let's throw some annoyingly arbitrary POV swaps in there!


	11. The Long Night

If there were anything heavy enough in there he would've barricaded the door. Karkat's anxiety swelled with every minute that crept by, and he was soon reduced to curling up on the ablution block floor. Disturbingly, this was neither the first nor the last time he would find himself chilling next to the load gaper. Any troll should naturally be soothed by a cool, dark space - supposedly it reminded them of the brood caverns or some shit. The door was locked and the lights were off, but in spite of all this lovely setting he just felt more and more claustrophobic.

Occasionally he could hear Kanaya stirring around outside, and he tried to stay quiet, hoping to convince her that he was asleep in the stagnant tub. The last thing he wanted was for her to sense trouble and start meddling again. Another agonizing jolt of pressure tore through him from back to groin, wresting him into the tightest knot his awkward bulk would allow for.

He did his best to bite back any unconscious noises he might have made. Karkat was never the strongest fighter in terms of raw strength or stamina, but he did have quite the tolerance for pain. All those sweeps of tangling with his spiny lusus and those crushing pincers had made him tough; more than enough to withstand anything his own treacherous body could throw at him. As his muscles relaxed sorely, he inhaled slowly and focused on smothering the water in his eyes.

"Karkat? What's going on?" _("Fuck fuck shit dammit.")_ She could hear him trying not to breathe. His hatred for her ridiculous ears achieved new depth that evening. Maybe, if he was very still, she'd go away...

"You've been in there for hours."

"What? I'm trying to sleep." _(Loud but not too randy. Need to sound pissed off, not desperate.)_

"In that slime? It's been bad for a couple nights. No wonder you can't stay down." She was right outside now.

"It's fine! Fuck, just leave me alone." He thought he heard his voice crack. It was getting harder by the second to pretend that he wasn't writhing on the floor like a wiggler.

"You sound horrible. Is something wrong?"

"No, I just have this basketcase banging on the door when I'm trying to sleep." Every word was bitten off carefully in hopes that good diction would blot out any sounds of insecurity.

"Bullshit. Something's definitely wrong." How could she see through him when they weren't even in the same room? "Unlock the door."

"Hell no! Just let me keep what little dignity I have and continue lying bare-ass naked in a giant slime bucket."

"I can hear you panting like a pawbeast in there. Let me in or I'll let myself in." It was officially the worst possible situation he could be in: doubled over in pain, cornered, with his entire wellbeing in the hands of another troll.

"Go. Away."

"Suit yourself. I'm not just going to stand by and listen to you suffer because you're stubborn. One minute, please." Her voice drifted away. Even in his sorry condition, Karkat knew better than to think she was giving up. A few seconds later Kanaya returned, with an icy backing to her tone that made him loathe whatever she was planning.

"Stand clear."

"Clear of wha - **Oh my god!** " Suddenly the door was splintered into toothpicks under a monstrous mechanical roar. Shards of wood scattered everywhere as Kanaya drove her chainsaw clean through and excised the general region of the doorknob in one jagged, raucous move.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" It never occurred to him that he was now hugging the load gaper for support. Flipping the switch on her saw, she entered daintily, careful to step over the mangled hunks of door.

"I _said_ I was coming in." She spoke as if ripping into a locked room via chainsaw were simply a minor, everyday inconvenience.

"Why didn't you just - use a pin or something?! Holy shit! I can't believe you just -"

"It's my hive, and I can do whatever I want with it. Perhaps I just decided the ablution block... Needs to be more open to the rest of the floorplan. Not a bad design idea, if I do say so myself."

"What the everloving fuck-"

"That's not important. Now, look at me." From her expression, he deduced that he must have looked even more pathetic than he initially thought. Vaguely Karkat recognized the moisture on his face, but he didn't acknowledge that he was crying. Everything was too bright and scattered and overwhelming for him to react very well at the moment.

"Oh. Oh my god..." Kanaya's hand free hand was pressed over her mouth in shock. Apparently he had also failed to notice the diluted flecks of blood soaking through his pants.

"Well shit."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Getting Karkat to come out of the ablution block wasn't near as hard as getting in there. Leading him by the arm, Kanaya that found she could mostly just drag him around like a heavy, stumbling mannequin. Though her movements were calm and overly coordinated, her mind was running terrified marathons. _("Does this mean the grub's coming? How do you tell if something's normal? Is this supposed to be painful? What if something's wrong? **What do I do what do I do whatdoIdo?"** )_ Carefully, very carefully, she let him down in the main respiteblock _("this is okay, right? Where else could I put him?")_ and set to work organizing a pallet in the middle of the room.

"Ow, ow - okay, Kanaya. Damn. I'm not a wiggler." He was now applying all his conscious strength to being ornery.

"Is this alright? Are you comfortable?" Karkat resisted her worried hands boorishly as he crumpled down onto the mat of towels and blankets.

"It's a bit nicer than the floor under the load gaper."

"You flatter me. Why would you lock yourself in, anyway? Were you really planning on lying there indefinitely? Waiting to bleed out?"

"I don't know. I freaked out. No one wants to admit when they're screwed, and I just... Couldn't stand for you to see me like that."

"And like a proper troll you preferred to sit around the ablution block in agony."

"Believe it or not, I still have - ohhh fuck..." He drudged upright to clutch at his stomach again.

"Just take it easy. You want some water?" When Kanaya rose to leave the room, she was surprised to be stopped by a strong hand, grasping tight to the bottom of her skirt.

"Wait. Don't... Don't leave yet." Another weary, drawn-out breath: he was so pitiable it hurt. She dropped to her knees dutifully, took both his hands in her own and returned his grip.

"I won't."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Watching him as the hours crawled by was wrenching, like a clamp at the base of her throat. Karkat was still as proud as ever, regardless of his miserable state. His fangs were wearing ratty holes in his lips, grown from little nicks he made by biting down in leau of crying. The stress was written all over him, from his matted hair to the baggy tanktop that clung to his skin with static and sweat.

It only took him a few minutes to release Kanaya initially, but now that she'd retrieved all the water and other supplies she could think of, he was holding on to her like his life depended on it. As Karkat struggled to suppress all his involuntary moans and sobs and murmurs, she faithfully kept beside him to offer a reassuring word or a comforting touch. There were some times where she was nearly cradling him; stroking his back, squeezing his hands. What frightened her was that he not only tolerated this, but responded gratefully. He didn't even have the stamina to complain any more.

Kanaya could barely stand the frustration; to be with someone hurting so much, but unable to help in any meaningful way. The pills she gave him were practically candy, and after that all she could do was sit by the pallet and hope for the best. A part of her almost wished Gamzee was there - miracles were always his area of expertise.

Everything she'd read about the Mother Grubs was in preparation for this night, though very little of that information was really applicable to the present situation. She anxiously recalled the steps described in her books: hormonal ques start the laying process, ovipostitor effaces, abdominal muscles contract, eggs emerge. _("Yeah that's pretty much useless considering trolls **don't have** most of those parts.")_ Despite her unnerving lack of knowledge on the subject, it was obvious that something was about to happen. Karkat's pangs were coming harder and closer together - she could tell by how roughly he grabbed her arm. Whatever would come to pass, it was going down soon.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Searching for a scale by which to mete this experience, Karkat thought, briefly, of his prior adventures. He thought of the time he slashed his own leg while practicing with the scythes. Of the scattered but unforgettable occasions where the dumb old crab had knocked his horns in their strifes. Of the tooth that musclebeast kicked out (which was only just regrowing to its original size), and of that evening he fell down the stairs carrying a drink and spent the next hour picking slivers of glass out of his arm. Rallying up all his most unpleasant memories at once, it occurred to him that none of them could near a fraction of what he was enduring that night.

He was dying. It wasn't just cramps or spasms, he was being torn apart. Karkat could feel that monstrosity ripping him up from the inside, pressing down on his pelvis and threatening to crack it in half. His whole body wanted to yell or cry out, to express some of the pain, but his brain kept howling at him to restrain himself for the sake of troll decency. It wasn't working. Each contraction eroded his will a little more, and he kept catching himself clinging to Kanaya like a scared hatchling. This would not do. If he was going to die horribly, he would at least try to do so with dignity.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dignity had absolutely nothing to do with it anything. After weathering the whole night in relative quiet, Karkat's control petered out around mid-morning. He was bawling shamelessly now, letting the tears come as they would. At this point Kanaya sternly informed him that his boxers had to go. It had been light out for just a few hours, and this was already shaping up to be a wonderful day.

His perception of time was definitely distorted by pain and panic, which made the last exhausting minutes seem like hours. It felt like his nook was tearing inside out. Trolls were not meant to give this way, he was confident of that. The pangs were so rapid in succession that he could barely differentiate them anymore, and with them came an intense urge to bear down.

For a few seconds Karkat would have sworn his heart stopped under the strain, pounding weakly in the humidity beneath poorly curtained spots of sunlight. Kanaya kept talking, touching his knee, making consoling sounds, but he didn't register much of it. All civilized or rational thought in his head was drowned out by animal instinct as he poured his last ounce of energy into pushing.

Finally, something heavy and motionless budged from him, entering the world into a soft towel and a room thick with the smell of sweat and blood. The ceiling kept spinning madly while Kanaya was trying to say something to him, and then everything went white.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he came to, Karkat was dimly aware of the cold rag on his head, the aching sensation all over him and the reddish cloudiness in his eyes. There was still light filtering through the sheets on the walls, which gave him hope that he hadn't been unconscious too long. He groped around blindly for something to pull himself up with, but there were knives in his belly every time he tried to move. Surrendering, he sighed and let his head drop back to the pillow.

"Are you awake?"

"Nrrrgh nnf."

"Sort of." Kanaya knelt gracefully next to the pallet. Her hair was wild and unkempt, and the bags under her eyes showed that she'd gotten even less rest than he had. "I'm glad you're awake; you passed out a few hours ago. How are you feeling?"

"Kinda... like someone... parked a battleship on my crotch."

"That's understandable." Suddenly a thought struck him like an axe to the sponge.

"Oh! The grub! Kanaya-"

"It's fine. Quite healthy, considering." Karkat forced himself upright sharply, heedless of the pain, only to be eased back down by a hand on his shoulder. "Stay down. You need to rest. Your injuries are pretty bad."

"Where..."

"I'll get it for you." She turned away for a moment, reaching for another towel and blanket structure just a few feet away. When she returned she placed a bundle of silky green chiffon beside him where he could see it. Tired eyes boggled out of their sockets, he rolled over and gingerly brushed a fold aside for a better look.

Inside was what well may be the ugliest creature he'd ever seen. Its chubby trollish face was flushed and screwed up in a sour, unseeing expression. Moving the grub had apparently stirred it from its shallow fatigue dreams. Nubby velvet-covered horns peered out from its fine black hair as it squirmed uselessly against its wrappings. Honestly, he was sort of disappointed. How could something this small and feeble inflict such torture? He was hoping that whatever came out of this ordeal would at least be more impressive.

"Do you want to hold it?"

"Oh. Uh, I don't know... What if-"

"For god's sake, you just gave birth to the thing. I'm sure you're fully qualified to hold it." Kanaya shoved the mess of rolled-up shawl into his hands before he had any more time to argue with her. The grub made a pitiful squeak as Karkat fumbled with it, searching for the right way to handle the poor thing without breaking it. Eventually he decided that it fit fairly well into the crook of his arm and it settled there, grabbing onto his shirt with dull chitinous claws.

"It's, uh... I don't..."

"You don't have to say anything. I understand that you're not exactly in speech-giving condition."

Though it naturally clung tight to him, Karkat found that he was holding the grub like thin glass. It was so fragile, so vulnerable, and the cherry red color of its abdomen told him that it was due for a future just as troubled and nebulous as his own. By all accounts, it was a wretched life; one that should have never existed in the first place. Was that why sheerly looking at it seemed to make his chest ache?

"It's just... I don't know. I don't know. What do I do now? What if I fuck it up?"

"It'll be okay. Something will work out: that's how you got here, after all." It must have been the thirtieth time she'd said that in last two days. As foolish and unrealistic as it was, he still wasn't tired of hearing it.

"...Thank you."

"What?"

"Thank you. For everything."

"...You're probably a bit delusional from blood loss."

"No, I know what I'm saying. I wouldn't have survived if not for you, and I owe you so much." He rubbed his eyes like it would smudge away the look on his face. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Kanaya was the biggest break he'd had since he left home. Owing people was not a habit he wanted to get into, but he knew he couldn't have made without her remorse. Someday Kanaya would get herself just as screwed as he was, and when that happened he swore he'd seize the opportunity to end his debt.

"I _chose_ to help you. You don't owe anything." Gently, she draped an arm around him and inched close. For the longest time, the whole hive was silent but for their soft breath and an occasional chirp or trill from the tiny wiggler nested between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a nice fat chapter to compensate for all the flimsy updates I've been putting out lately.


	12. The Most Natural Thing in the World

Approximately one and one-eighth sweeps ago, the world was a weirdly familiar place for Karkat Vantas. Earlier that evening his rotpan friend called him (woke him up) to report that the room wouldn't stop moving and it was starting to freak him out. He got like that from time to time: the sopor's gentle visions would erode into daymares and he'd start panicking over illusory demons that only he could see. After saying goodbye to the old crab, Karkat rolled his eyes and fished a jacket out of the hamper to go check on his old slimehead.

Gamzee was so lucky his moirail lived close by; he would've maimed himself by now if left to his own devices. Ever since he dipped into the stuff at age four, the sopor had eaten into his sponge and left him twisted up and fractured inside. Every now and then Karkat had to stop by and make sure he was still breathing. As always, the door to the rear block was open to allow the salty air to seep in. The thickheaded bulge comprehended hive security about as well as he did astrophysics.

"Hey. Numbglobes. You in here?" Karkat rapped loudly on the metal stair rail to announce his presence.

"Kinda..." Gamzee's voice croaked lazily from somewhere upstairs.

"Yeah that's what I figured." Stomping up the towering steps, Karkat let himself into the respiteblock to find his palemate sprawled out predictably in that god-ugly shag carpet.

"... Hey there, best bro." His voice was slurred and clumsy.

"Let's cut to it. How much did you eat?" Those days Karkat felt less like a moirail and more like a Physiciaseveror making hivecalls. As much as he hated the work and the contaminated relationship it grew from, he had to admit that he pitied Gamzee like nothing else.

"I unno... about four, five pies? I lost count last night."

"You've been up all day- wait, five!? Are you serious?"

"Maaaaybe."

"Agh! You bulgesucking junkie, that's dangerous!" He was doing rapid emergency math in his head. How much sopor does it take to kill a troll? Usually it's about thirty ounces pure: take into account body weight, tolerance, dilution... Karkat still didn't like those numbers.

"Goddamn rot-pan... What the fuck were you thinking? Oh, that's right, you don't think 'cause the pies have killed that part of your brain!"

"It's all good, bro. Stop with your motherfuckin' worrying."

"You called me, idiot!"

"Did I? I kinda spaced out..." It wasn't the worst part of the night, but he dreaded it anyway; Gamzee always got way too touchy-feely when he was tripping. Karkat had barely been sitting with him for three minutes and he was already receiving completely unwarranted hugs.

"Get off. You're fucked up. Ow, hey - do you do this to everyone, or is it just me?" He was practically sitting in Karkat's lap now. Moirails were naturally prone to unnecessary physical affection, but it still wasn't a welcome experience for him, especially when his darling palemate stunk of greasepaint and old recuperacoon.

"Hgh!" Gamzee replied eloquently by vomiting on the floor.

"Aw, man! That's disgusting! Come on..." Karkat coughed to resist gagging as he grabbed his friend by the arms and hauled him into the ablution block. This _was_ the first time he got the pleasure of spending an evening next to the load gaper. Perched on the edge of the ablution trap, he reluctantly hung around to ensure Gamzee made the night.

"Uuuuhn... Motherfuck. I'm on fire inside..."

"That's because you poisoned yourself. Apparently your bilesack makes better decisions than you do." The pathetic choking noises he made were like needles in Karkat's chest. As juvenile and idealistic as it was, he felt like he'd never pitied anything quite like he did right then. It was a staple in the movies; a responsible young upstart takes pity on his grubhood friend gone wrong and becomes his moirail just in time to save him from himself.

In retrospect, he might have gotten a little too caught up in the moment. His mind wandered until, at some point, he realized indignantly that he had planted a hand firmly in the middle of Gamzee's back. At first he yanked it back, but Gamzee hiccuped miserably and he couldn't stand to watch anymore. _("Maybe this is what it feels like to be Kanaya?")_

Nervously, gingerly, trying to measure whether it was appropriate or not, Karkat placed a hand between his shoulders and lightly began to rub along the spine. He listened intently for any complaints or rebuttals, _("what the fuck are you doing?!")_ as he awkwardly inched closer to let his forearm support part of his friend's weight. Gamzee's grip on the load gaper slacked a bit, but he didn't mind the improper contact. For a good hour or so they lingered there, Karkat clinging and mumbling and stroking his back like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Once they were both confident that phase was over, the pair stumbled back into the respiteblock and onto a dubious-looking laundry pile. (It was less stabby than the horn pile, at least.) In the corner of his mind he kept reminding himself that whatever goes on between palemates in private is completely confidential. Every decent troll knows that.

"Murgher huckk... It hurts, bro." Karkat sighed dramatically, hoping it would add a note of condescention to make the situation less uncomfortable, but he knew the dumb clown wouldn't catch on to it. Instead Gamzee flopped over like a sick grub and climbed into his arms shamelessly.

His skin was as cold as glass when he huddled into Karkat's stomach to leech some of the warmth. Gamzee had known he was some kind of lowblood for a long time, and every night they were together Karkat thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't turned out a racist thug like Zahhak. They'd both seen the worst of each other, he realized. They trusted one another with their darkest times. It wasn't often a couple overgrown hatchlings could develop such an acute and intense pale romance.

"That ceiling keeps lookin' down on me. It's motherfuckin' staring at me man, I can feel it."

"Shhh. Just be still." A finger on his thin neck confirmed that Gamzee's pulse seemed to be normal. _("That means it's safe to sleep, right?")_ Karkat cursed himself for being so ignorant about medicine.

"It's like the whole room's got fuckin' eyes, only you can't see them 'cause they're under the surface kinda. But they can still see you."

"You're hallucinating. Considering how much of that shit you ate, I'm surprised you aren't fucking flying right now."

"I'm too heavy bro. Couldn't fly if I tried. My body's like rocks and lead and shit. Maybe Tav could -heh heh. Maybe that motherfucker could all saw off his legs and fly away."

"Shoosh, shoosh. Stop it. Try to rest, don't freak out." With a fistfull of baggy shirt, Karkat tugged Gamzee onto his side so those twisted horns weren't jabbing him in the ribs. Half-consciously he noticed that his stupid makeup was smearing onto his jeans, but he ignored it. Instead he drooped an arm over Gamzee's chest and started idly running the other hand through his wild, curly hair.

"And my head's all full and heavy too. My pan went and cooled and got hard and none of it makes sense anymore..."

"Pleeeease calm the hell down. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner I can too. And I am so fucking tired because you got me up at sundown."

"...Can you sing, bro?"

"What."

"Music's the best, motherfucker. Puts your shit together right quick."

"No, screw that. You're not a wiggler and I'm not gonna sing, nooklicker."

"C'mon man. My lusus used to always sing when he came, and I'd pass out right there on the fuckin' beach it was so nice. He stopped doing that when he stopped coming, when he thought I was old enough to handle my own or some shit." Gamzee reached up and cupped Karkat's face like it would make him any more persuasive.

"No. I don't sing. Case closed."

"Bastard thought I was too old for a lusus, just left me waiting on him night after fucking night. ...And after that's when the walls started makin' eyes..."

"Ugh... If I sing, will you promise to _go the fuck to sleep?_ "

"You got my word as a clown, bro. As a follower of the Messiahs..."

"Okay, okay. God." He groaned resentfully, lolling his head back to reiterate just how much he hated doing this, but Karkat finally let desperation get the best of him and sang a few flat, strident bars.

As someone who gave as much thought to music as he did to obscure foot fungus, he didn't really know any songs in-depth. So he settled for halfheartedly parroting the melody (and guessing the lyrics) to the ending theme from a drama he re-watched about a perigee ago. It sounded like a broken audio file, skipping parts and dragging in peculiar places, but Gamzee just grinned moronically in peace. Karkat finished the dreadful concert with hope that he'd be too stoned to remember any of this later.

"Heheheh. My palebro does have a non-shouty voice."

"Shut up. You got your way, you big wiggler, now do I have to read you a fucking 'coontime story or are you gonna let me get half a day's rest?"

"You know what, brother?"

" **What?** "

"You'd make an awesome lusus."

"Yeah you're still way out there. Let's just sleep this night off so we can wake up later and pretend none of it ever happened." Karkat rattled his dense head to seal the statement.

"I'm serious man. The old goat, he came and went like he wanted. Only reason he showed up at all is 'cause it was kinda his whole fucking job."

"Let's not get into this..."

"But then you came, and you kept coming, and no one had to make you do any of that shit but you did it anyway. Like a mama purrbeast or somethin'. I'm just saying. If the universe all went and decided that you'd get your claws on a wiggler... He'd be the luckiest motherfucker Alternia ever hatched."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

By some merciful miracle of nature, newborn trolls don't achieve sight or full mobility until they're a week or two old. Up till that point they're basically living sausage wraps; slow, defenseless and subsisting entirely on anything and everything that comes in the general vicinity of their mouths. After freeing his shirt, the pillowcase and his fingers from the toothy beartrap, Karkat learned not to place too much trust in its innocuous appearance.

It was the day after the worst day of his life. Kanaya had taken care to clean up the monstrous amount of blood from the ordeal, but there was nothing she could do to replace it. Everything was too sore to move, and he whiled away most of the day in the murky twilight between sleep and half-consciousness. It felt like all the strength had been beaten out of him, leaving him a crumpled heap of troll with nothing better to do than keep an eye on his tiny abomination.

The grub was weary too. After exhausting all its remaining energy the previous night, it was mostly docile; with the occasional bouts of random biting and screaming, of course. According to the books, it was normal for very young wigglers to cry for no discernible reason. (Some brood nurses believed it had to do with their kind's subconscious daymares, but there was no way to validate this.) Whatever the cause, the new troll was squalling with all the force its immature vascular system could manage.

"Aaaagh, for fuck's sake... What do you want?" Knowing that Kanaya was busy downstairs _("she's not your personal assistant jackass,")_ he turned over sluggishly to scoop the bawling wiggler into his hands.

"You've eaten, you've crapped, you've eaten your own weight in shit that isn't even food! What is your problem?" It responded by shrieking louder and digging its claws into his skin.

"Ow! You little bastard! What's - let go!" Karkat carefully pried the infant off his arm, seizing the opportunity to lash its claws to its sides with a spare length of cloth. Though securely contained, the grub still carried on as if the world was ending. That sound was like a bunch of rusty screws in his aching head.

"Give it a rest! I know it kinda sucks to be you right now - it sucks to be both of us - but there's nothing I can do so _please_ quit..." No good. All he got was more bawling and fighting against the blankets.

Absently he remembered what his own lusus used to do when he was being a little shit. The old crab would shove him into the recuperacoon, _("no it's ten in the fucking morning shut the hell up," he didn't speak pincerbeast, but that was clear enough)_ slam the door, and sing. It wasn't 'singing' in the wordy troll sense, more of a reverberating, trilling insect-chirp. Most people would probably find it grating, that low discordant shill carrying on half the day if need be. But he wasn't old enough to know better. To him, the sound was deeply reassuring: the knowledge that his guardian was right beside him. With a grudging moan, he realized what he had to do.

Thankfully dignity had stopped being a factor two nights ago. His pride was so mangled by this point that he couldn't be bothered to worry about it any more. Burying the wailing grub against his chest, he drew a slow breath and began to sing. As he expected, it was terrible. Karkat had a voice like the tuneless droll of a thermal hull, with all the enthusiasm of a hatchling in schoolfeeding. The wiggler didn't seem to comprehend this, though, but started to purr softly in approval. It wrestled a couple foreclaws out of the swaddling to grab at his shirt, and he was happy to allow this as long as it did so quietly.

Loathsome as this creature was, Karkat couldn't help but to feel for it somehow. He'd seen a lot of pathetic things in his day. He'd seen Kanaya after a particularly ugly breakup, Sollux on the downside of one of his moodswings and Gamzee getting eaten up by the sopor slime. But this was different. This wretched thing couldn't even open its eyes fully, couldn't do anything but cry and cling uselessly. Perhaps it was just the anemia muddying his head, but the more he meditated on it, the more he found his tiny aberration to be ridiculously, almost obscenely, _pitiable_. Like a pale pity that stung harder and sharper than any red he'd ever felt.

With one last upward glance to make sure no one could see him, Karkat eased down into the pallet and placed the grub delicately at his side. He curled up around it, feeling the heat of its fragile skin against his arms. Still murmuring the last notes of his flimsy song, he dozed in the mid-day swelter, clutching that child like... like it was the most natural thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a late chapter bloated with fluff and moirail cuddles. Shit will start moving again next update, I swear.


	13. The Christening

All Karkat wanted was to hide in the ablution trap for the rest of his life to ride out some of the humiliation. Whenever he tried, though, he found that the usually soothing chill of the sopor burned like toxic waste below the belt. His injuries were so deep and sensitive enough that even the sweet, comforting slime had betrayed him.  
  
The grub devoured a lion's share of his meals; it seemed to compensate for whatever apetite he'd lost in the previous nights. It was two days after the worst day of his life, and he couldn't figure out what to do with himself while incapacitated. He was getting sick of being treated like a crippled hatchling, but his body wouldn't allow him many other options. Blood loss had drained all the strength out of his tired frame, while his head pounded at every sound that intruded on the splendid hive.  
  
That evening Kanaya abruptly seiged him with a question he'd been waiting for, but dreaded answering.  
  
"Have you thought of any names?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"For the wiggler. It still kinda needs one."  
  
"Yeah, but... how do you just _come up_ with a name?"  
  
"We can't just call it 'the grub' forever."  
  
"There's no way to even know its sex till it pupates. It would suck to have a stupid name on top of being a mutant with no lusus. And being named for the wrong **gender** would be a pretty shitty lot."  
  
"Hmm, okay. Biology lesson time! When a Mother Grub issues her matriorb-"  
  
"-Wow that sounds gross-"  
  
"-Quiet. When a matriorb hatches, the resulting offspring is always female because it's a genetic duplicate of its mother. So if this grub really was born asexually-"  
  
"-Then it's kind of a clone?"  
  
"Maybe. More or less. I don't know: you're not a Mother Grub, so all of this is just speculation on my part. But, at the very least, we can make an educated guess that it's likely to be male." Kanaya was chanelling her lusus in tone, chiding and articulate and maybe just a little condescending. Karkat decided he was tired enough to ignore it.  
  
"Okay, can't argue with that. You're the expert, you know more about this crap than I do."  
  
"So, what sounds like a good name?"  
  
"I don't know. I haven't named anything since my lusus got me a pet grubrat when I was three. I just called it 'grubrat'... It died after two weeks."  
  
"Well, good guardians aren't necessarily good pet owners." Condescending wasn't the right word; it was more patronizing. God he loathed it when people pitied him.  
  
"...Fuck. I'm a guardian. I'm someone's _guardian_ , Kanaya. It just... Takes a while for that to sink in." He sighed and absently pressed the wiggler tighter to his chest.  
  
"I suppose it would. Trolls aren't natural-born hatchling wranglers. But we're both reasonablely competant: I'm sure we can figure out what animals have been doing on their own for thousands of years."  
  
"You really need to stop this rationalization thing. You're too good at it."  
  
"What do you expect? I maintained a flushcrush on Vriska for sweeps."  
  
"Good point. That takes some serious self-deluding skill."  
  
"...Anyway! Names." As Kanaya said that, her eyes wandered. Clearly she was kicking herself for mentioning spiderbitch. Karkat let it slide. He would let a lot slide by this point.  
  
"I don't know... How do they pick names in the hatcheries?"  
  
"As I understand, there's a computer filing system that assembles random syllables from a wordbank at the same time it prints up their basic IDs."  
  
"Really makes you feel important."  
  
"That's because we are. Well, I'm sure we can think of something better than glueing a bunch of meaningless letters together."  
  
"Definitely."  
  
"Surely."  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
His name was Acuben. She had no doubt about that. With everything that had happened in the last two perigees, she thought it was only appropriate to name the wiggler after his... Mother? Mother sounds right. Taxonomy was never her strong point, and this was a bizarre situation.  
  
Regula returned to her cavern hideout with a stolen knife, a chunk of highblood horn and the better half of a herdbeast. (It had been a long night.) To her relief, she was met near the enterance by an eagerly squealing grub.  
  
"Alright, alright. I'm working on it. You'll get your food here soon."  
  
"Gyeh!"  
  
"No, you can't eat it raw every night. That's unhealthy." Letting the youngster crawl onto her back, she set to work dividing up the meat into servicable pieces. The loss of her mate still burned in her stomach like hot coals, but the long nights and days spent fleeing for her life hadn't given her much time to grieve. Mossy tears tried to accumulate in the back of her mind, until a piercing sting through her left ear interrupted their descent.  
  
"Ow! Hey, let go!"  
  
"Grrr!" Carefully she managed to pry the tiny piranha teeth off her earcuff with only moderate damage.  
  
"What is wrong with you? I said you'll eat in a minute!" The grub retaliated by chewing on a stray clump of her hair.  
  
"Agh! Why are you so difficult?" Yanking him down to arm's length, she looked straight into his wild little eyes as if she could reason with the infant. "You're insufferable."  
  
"Chirrr." Apparently he grasped her tone enough to nibble her hand in consolation. (He was already learning how to be manipulative.) Sighing in resignation, Regula cradled him in her bloody sleeves before resuming her butchery.  
  
"I hate it when you do that; pissing me off and then getting away with it by being sweet. ...Your mother used to do the same thing."    
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Three encyclopedias, six history books and at least ten astronomy guides later, they were more confused and frustrated than when they started. Computer filing systems can't bicker or second-guess themselves, which is why they don't take all evening to come up with twelve simple letters. Trolls, on the other hand, aren't accustomed to naming anything unironically, so what should have been a minor task devolved into an archive disaster.  
  
"I still think you could name it after a historic figure."  
  
"And I still think that's bullshit. Nobody with an intact pan would want to walk around calling themself 'the Timeless' or something."  
  
"Those are titles, not names. The Timeless, also known as the Demoness, the Handmaid-"  
  
"-The crazy bitch that no one wanted to spend more than five minutes with-"  
  
"She was just an example."  
  
"Bzzt. Time's up. We're through with the history category."  
  
"Fine. Then what do you suggest?"  
  
"I don't know. You're the idea person. I'm just quality control."  
  
"That's helpful. ...Okay, what about the astronomy guides?"  
  
"Sure, why not." Karkat rolled over lazily to grab a stray star chart. "This constellation's 'Cancer', right?"  
  
"Yeah. It's an obscure set."  
  
"Kind of small and sorry. Most castes are represented by something more... impressive."  
  
"Cancer's a rare sign. It's not even supposed to exist: the constellation is always written as meaningless."  
  
"There's labels on each star. 'Alpha Cancri, Beta Cancri, Delta Cancri...' Someone was creative when they came up with these."  
  
"That's the genitive case. 'Cancri' is the modifier for the names of stars in the Cancer cluster."  
  
"So it's the descriptive word for something that belongs to 'Cancer'..." He dragged the sentence around like it was packed with lead.  
  
"More or less."  
  
"... You know, that's six letters."  
  
"It is. A proper troll name."  
  
"... Could be worse."  
  
"I think it sounds good. Cancri."  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

carcinoGeneticist [CG]  began trolling  terminallyCapricious [TC]

CG: HEY SHITHEAD.   
TC: WhAt'S uP bEsT fRiEnD? :o)   
CG: NOTHING. IT'S BASICALLY A BIG FUCKING SAND DUNE MADE OF NOTHING OUT HERE.   
TC: hEhE, i'Ve GoT tHoSe ToO.   
TC: sAnD dUnEs OuT tHe WaStE cHuTe, AlL sItTiNg ArOuNd DoInG nOtHiN.   
TC: tHeY gOt ThAt ShIt FiGuReD oUt.   
CG: YOU DON'T DO ANYTHING EITHER, SMARTASS.   
CG: JUST SIT AROUND FUCKING UP YOUR OWN NERVOUS SYSTEM.   
TC: sO, yOu'Re JuSt AlL uP aNd ChIlLiN aT kAnAyA's PlAcE?   
CG: I GUESS.   
CG: WHY?   
TC: cAuSe I hAvEn'T eVeR kNoWn My PaLeBrO tO cHiLl AnYwHeRe.   
TC: ThEy CoUlD, lIkE, sTuFf YoUr AsS iN a FrIdGe AnD yOu'D sTiLl Be StEaMiN lIkE tHe EmIsSaRy'S sPhInCtEr.   
CG: THE MOST TROUBLING THING ABOUT THAT STATEMENT IS THAT YOU CAN ACTUALLY SPELL SPHINCTER.   
TC: I lOoKeD iT uP. :o)   
TC: bUt SeRiOuSlY mAn   
TC: I'vE nEvEr HeArD yOu NoT bEiN bEnT oUt Of ShApE,   
TC: eXcEpT fOr WhEn YoU'rE hIdInG sOmE bIg ShIt.   
CG: HIDING?   
CG: COME ON, REALLY?   
CG: WHEN HAVE I EVER NOT SPEWED MY CONTEMPUTOUS RAGE IN THE GENERAL DIRECTION OF ANY SORRY FUCKER THAT CROSSES MY PATH?   
TC: WhEn YoU'vE gOnE aNd GoT sOmEtHiNg So BaD yOu WoN't EvEn TeLl YoUr MoThErFuCkInG mOiRaIl AbOuT iT.   
CG: GODDAMN IT GAMZEE.   
CG: WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO, VERBALLY ABUSE YOU MORE THAN ALREADY NECESSARY TO REITERATE THAT I AM FINE AND FUCKING DANDY IN THIS BLISTERING SHITHOLE DESERT?   
TC: nO, bUt EvEn HaLfWaY aCrOsS tHe MoThErFuCkInG pLaNeT i CaN sEe WhEn YoU'rE sErViNg Up A hEaPiNg PlAtEaU oF hOoFbEaStShIt.   
TC: I gOt ThE mIrAcLe Of FrIeNdShIp TeLlInG mE wHeN tHiNgS aIn'T rIgHt.     
CG: STOP WITH YOUR WEIRD-ASS PRYING CHUCKLEVOODOO CRAP BECAUSE I ALREADY HAVE MORE THAN ENOUGH MEDDLING IN THE FORM OF KANAYA.   
TC: No VoOdOoS nEeDeD hErE kArBrO   
TC: jUsT gOoD oLd-FaShIoNeD pAlE iNsTiNcT.   
CG: FUCK.   
CG: JUST FUCK.   
CG: IF I SHOOT OUT ALL THE RANDOM POINTLESS SHIT I'M DOING RIGHT NOW, WILL YOU STOP BUGGING ME?   
TC: dEpEnDs On WhEtHeR oR nOt YoU tElL Me ThE iMpOrTaNt PaRtS oR nOt.   
CG: WHEN THE HELL DID YOU START BEING THE RESPONSIBLE MOIRAIL?   
TC: WhEnEvEr I hAd To FiGuRe It OuT fOr My MoThErFuCkInG sElF.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaagh I am so sorry this update is as late as it is. Finals week ate me alive, and I've been super busy on other nonsense that's made it very hard to sit down and type out this mess. It's not as strong as I would like it, but at this point I just want to be done with this chapter and get the ball rolling again. 
> 
> Thank you all for your kindness and support! I appreciate it immensely, and your input is a big part of what inspires me to keep writing.


	14. The Exposition

CG: DON'T YOU GET STARTED ON THAT. 

CG: I TOLD YOU, I DID WHAT I HAD TO DO TO KEEP LIVING WITHOUT GETTING YOUR ASS CULLED IN THE PROCESS. 

CG: THE ABANDONMENT ISSUES CARD HAS EXPIRED MAN.

TC: i'M nOt HeRe To TaLk AbOuT mY fUcKiN lIfE 

TC: tHaT sHiT's FoR sOmE oThEr NiGhT.

CG: YOUR COHERENCY IS STARTING TO FREAK ME OUT. 

TC: fReAkS mE oUt ToO bRo.

TC: BeEn ScArIn Me FoR a WhIlE nOw.

TC: AnYhOw, WhAt HaVe YoU bEeN dOiN tHaT tOoK yOu AlL tHe WaY tO tHe DeSeRt?

CG: I BASICALLY JUST MADE A BEELINE FOR 'AWAY FROM MY FUCKING DEATHTRAP HIVE' AND ENDED UP HERE.

TC: So YoU jUsT wAlKeD iNtO tHe LaNd Of sUn AnD mOtHeRfUcKiNg RaInBoW dRiNkErS aNd WaItEd FoR a MiRaClE? 

CG: THAT'S WHAT YOU WOULD DO. 

TC: i DoN't KnOw MuCh AbOuT tRoLlS, bEsT fRiEnD

TC: bUt I kNoW a GuY wHo DoEsN't PuT hIs FaItH iN mIrAcLeS. 

CG: I DIDN'T HAVE MUCH ELSE TO GO ON. 

TC: sErIoUsLy BrO, dOn'T tHiNk YoUr OlD rOtPaN bUdDy WiLl bElIeVe AnY rAnDoM sHiT yOu ThRoW oUt ThErE.

TC: i CaLl ShEnAnIgAnS. 

CG: OKAY, YOU WANT TO KNOW THE WHOLE GODDAMN STORY? 

TC: tHaT's AlL i'Ve BeEn AsKiNg FoR.

CG: FINE. 

CG: PULL UP A CHAIR AND LISTEN CLOSE, WIGGLER. TAKE YOUR EVACUATION BREAKS AND GET COMFORTABLE.

CG: BECAUSE I'M ONLY SAYING THIS ONCE.

CG: THIS IS THE STORY OF WHY I'M TRAPPED IN KANAYA'S GODAWFUL PIMPED-OUT UNDEAD SANCTUARY. 

CG: SQUATTING LIKE A SHAMELESS HIVE-SCAVENGING PINCERBEAST INSTEAD OF DYING IN PEACE WITH MY LAST TINY, FRAZZLED THREADS OF DIGNITY. 

CG: IT STARTED A FEW PERIGEES AGO WITH ALL THIS PUKING AND ACHEY BULLSHIT.

CG: AND IT ONLY GOT WORSE.

CG: IT MADE ME STUPIDLY WEAK, AND THAT MADE ME DESPERATE. 

CG: AND IT ENDED WITH A PROBLEM TO END ALL PROBLEMS ON THE FACE OF THIS GIANT CHUTEFUCKING CRAPHOLE OF A PLANET.

TC: So WhAt Is YoUr MoThErFuCkIn PrObLeM?

CG: OKAY. 

CG: LOOK.

CG: SEE THIS? 

[carcinoGeneticist  sent file THISLITTLEFUCKER.jpg] 

  


CG: THIS IS MY PROBLEM. 

TC: uHhHh...

TC: I'm NoT sUrE wHaT i'M lOoKiNg At HeRe.

CG: IT'S A GRUB NOOKWIPE. 

TC: OkAy

TC: WhY aRe YoU sEnDiNg Me ThIs?

CG: BECAUSE 90% OF WHY MY LIFE HAS SUCKED RECENTLY IS DUE TO HIM.

TC: DuDe, WhAt? 

TC: HoW tHe FuCk DiD yOu EnD uP wItH a WiGgLeR? 

TC: dId He, LiKe 

TC: GeT oUt Of ThE cAvErNs Or SoMeThInG?

CG: NO. 

CG: HE'S...

CG: SHIT, HOW DO I PUT THIS?

CG: HE'S BEEN WITH ME HIS WHOLE LIFE. 

CG: ...AND THEN SOME.

TC: nOw I'm ReAlLy LoSt.

CG: HE'S MINE.

TC: Uh... No ShIt? 

TC: HoW dId ThIs HaPpEn?

CG: I KINDA... GAVE BIRTH TO HIM. 

TC: ... 

TC: ArE yOu HiGh? 

CG: I FUCKING WISH. 

CG: IT WOULD MAKE THIS WHOLE SITUATION A LOT LESS CONFUSING. 

CG: BUT SADLY I AM STONE COLD SOBER, AND FATE HAS DROPPED A SQUIRMING LUMP OF GRUBBY USELESSNESS INTO MY LAP WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A 'HEADS UP'. 

TC: BuT hOw? 

TC: i MigHt HaVe MiSsEd A fEw ScHoOlFeEdInGs HeRe AnD tHeRe, BuT i'M pReTtY sUrE tRoLlS dOn'T wOrK tHaT wAy.

CG: TELL THAT TO THIS FUCKING TRAVESTY OF NATURE. 

CG: I'D LIST ALL OF THE SCIENTIFIC REASONS THIS SHOULD BE IMPOSSIBLE, BUT THERE'S A BIG MIDDLE FINGER TO SCIENCE DROOLING ON MY KNEE RIGHT NOW SO IT SEEMS KIND OF POINTLESS. 

TC: YoU bEtTeR nOt Be LeAdInG mE oN, bRoThEr. 

CG: FOR FUCK'S SAKE, IF I WERE LEADING YOU ON, DON'T YOU THINK I COULD COME UP WITH SOMETHING BETTER THAN THIS?

CG: IF I WERE LYING I'D AT LEAST MAKE IT LESS HUMILIATING.

TC: ThIs Is NuTs. 

TC: FiRsT yOu CoMe TaLkInG tO mE aFtEr BeInG dEaD fOr A sWeEp

TC: ThEn YoU sEnD mE tHiS cRaZy AsS pIcTuRe SaYiNg ThAt It'S yOuR oWn WiGgLeR

TC: wHiCh I dIdN't EvEn KnOw WaS a ThInG tHaT cOuLd HaPpEn.

CG: TRUST ME, I'M NOT SHARING THIS MAGICAL TALE FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES. 

CG: IN FACT, I'D SOONER TELL YOU THAT I GOT MY BULGE TORN OFF BY A RAMPAGING PACK OF FANGBEASTS THAN ADMIT TO THE EXISTENCE OF THIS LITTLE ABOMINATION.

TC: DaMn, It AiN't EaSy To ArGuE wItH yOu OnCe YoU bRiNg In ThE bUlGe-EaTiNg FaNgBeAsTs.

CG: IT'S THE SAME DEBATE LEGISLACERATORS USE TO MAKE CRIMINALS BLOW THEIR ALIBIS BEFORE CULLING.

TC: LiKe I sAiD eArLiEr, I mAy NoT kNoW tOo MuCh AbOuT tRoLlS

TC: bUt I kNoW hOw It SoUnDs WhEn My PaLeBrO iS bEiN sTrAiGhT wItH mE. 

TC: fUcKeD uP aS iT iS, 

TC: i BeLiEvE yOu MaN. 

CG: HALLE-FUCKING-LUJAH.   

CG: I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN STAND TO BE ANY CLEARER THAN THAT. 

CG: I'M OUT OF PRACTICE IN THE FINE ART OF IDIOT-PROOFING MY FACTS FOR YOU. 

TC: wHaT aRe YoU gOnNa Do WiTh It? 

CG: THE WIGGLER? 

TC: YeAh. DoEs It HaVe A lUsUs Or SoMeThInG? 

TC: i GuEsS nOt, SiNcE gRuBs ArE sUpPoSeD tO gEt ThEiR gUaRdIaNs In ThE cAvErNs, RiGhT? 

CG: THAT'S WHAT THE PICTURE BOOKS SAY. 

CG: AND TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH THE BASTARD. 

CG: HE'S NOT JUST USELESS: HE'S ABOVE AND BEYOND USELESS.

CG: ALL HE CAN DO IS BITE AND SCREAM AND CLING. 

TC: sO, wHaT? aRe YoU gOnNa CuLl It? 

CG: I DON'T KNOW. 

CG: I REALLY DON'T. 

CG: ...

CG: IT ALMOST SEEMS LIKE A WASTE, JUST LETTING HIM DIE AFTER ALL THE RIDICULOUS BULLSHIT IT TOOK TO GET HIM. 

TC: KnOw WhAt? 

TC: I kInDa ThInK sO tOo. 

TC: A gRuB wHo CoMeS aRoUnD lIkE tHiS, dEsPiTe AlL tHe RuLeS "sCiEnCe" LaYs OuT aGaInSt It, Is PrEtTy DaMn SpEcIaL. 

TC: iT's AlMoSt LiKe... 

CG: DON'T SAY IT.

TC: A mOtHeR

CG: I KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING ASSLICKER

TC: fUcKiNg

CG: YOU DON'T HAVE TO TYPE IT OUT. 

TC: MiRaClE. :o) 

CG: FOR FUCK'S SAKE. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the evening's conversation played out much like the last; with Gamzee asking a myriad of harebrained and staunchly relevant questions. Karkat answered them with as much patience as he could manage, pausing every now and then to mind the squirming grub in his lap. He was getting a little stronger and a little more ornery every night, trying to wriggle out of Karkat's hands one minute only to grab onto him relentlessly the next. 

For a rotpanned lunatic, Gamzee was surprisingly salient and understanding. At one point he even requested more pictures, so he could "recognize this lucky little motherfucker if ever our paths should cross." Unsure how to respond to that, Karkat concluded that Gamzee was probably too intoxicated to reason with and logged off wondering how much of their discussion he'd remember later. They could always go back through the chatlogs later; the important thing was that Karkat had fulfilled the obligations of moirailleigance. He'd told Gamzee what he wanted to know, and could finally return his attention to the wiggler with a slightly lighter burden on his head. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cancri was a peculiar creature, whom his caretakers only marginally comprehended. They'd found, mostly through trial and error, that he could more or less eat whatever they did as long as it wasn't too spicy or overly seasoned. (This resulted in a depressingly high occurance of water and reheated grubloaf. Kanaya was a lot of things, but a chef was not among them.) The rest of his behavior, however, was a mystery to them. Loud noises made him cry inconsolably, as did direct sunlight; he seemed to volley between clinging to people for dear life and struggling like they were about to maim him. 

But more confounding than any of that was the behavior Karkat began to develop in response. He displayed a strange sort of delicateness or affection to the wiggler, the likes of which Kanaya had never seen even between palemates. A part of her had to confess a certain scientific curiosity about this phenomenon, but the look Karkat gave her whenever she interrupted his private moments with the grub reminded her of a wet purrbeast. 

It was during one of those moments (they seemed to be getting longer and more frequent; or perhaps Kanaya was just getting better at identifying them) that a huge form blotted out moonlight from all around the hive. A hideous creaking, clicking, grinding sound alerted her first to the arrival of something monstrous, even by desert standards. Its massive bulk eclipsed most of the portholes on the lower story, and its steps as it circled the premises were tiny metallic earthquakes. 

As soon as she picked out the noise from the normal murmur of nocturnal life, Kanaya was bubbling over with a heavy, jet-black dread. Had Karkat been tracked there? Had someone given away their location? Keeping her chainsaw handy behind her back, she descended the stairwell unsure of whether or not the creature she faced was even something that could be killed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I sound like a broken record at this point, but I am so sorry that this chapter took me as long as it did. This fic went on a brief hiatus in the last couple months, due mostly to a combination of computer troubles and good-old-fashioned real life getting in the way. 
> 
> Just know that I have no plans to discontinue Parthenogenesis, and that I love you all for being so friendly and vocal! 
> 
> Addendum: I recently (well, recent by the terms of this fic) had the great experience of receiving fan art! I think that when this section of the story wraps up, I'll put them in a separate page as an annex, but until then I'll just leave the pictures and the links to the artist's blogs right here. Thank you so much guys!
> 
> http://patrollin4bolin.tumblr.com/post/21663782736/so-theres-this-fic-called-parthenogenesis-where
> 
> http://davusignavus.tumblr.com/post/23089843044/so-im-really-pleased-so-far-with-how


	15. The Delivery

Whatever it was, it made an ungodly ruckus as it approached the hive. The beast seemed to get bigger and more repugnant as it drew closer, but it certainly came at its own damn leisure. Kanaya managed to retrieve her saw, test it, check the windows for the umpteenth time and even scurry upstairs before they knew for sure that the wretched thing was headed their way. She found Karkat pacing furiously through the respiteblock: he'd been confined there on her insistence due to his health. The little mutant was a natural-born fighter, but blood loss and sheer exhaustion had made him weak, and Kanaya wouldn't dare pit him against something as dangerous as... whatever that creature was. 

When it closed on the front entryway, the whole hive went darkly quiet. Risking a glance through the one-way porthole, Kanaya sized up her opponent as an imperial-class drone. Its shell was black metal, some obscure and expensive alloy, and its weather-beaten carapace featured a small but distinct Peixes insignia right below what would be the collarbone. Seeing the monstrosity up close, she felt a chill run through down her back as it spoke her name in its low, tinny voice. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Under the extravagant windows of his hostess' respiteblock, Karkat was having a small mental breakdown. The copious amounts of nothingness in his environment made him anxious, and no matter how he muttered or shushed at him to stop, Cancri was hellbent on crying for no apparent reason. 

"Shoosh, you crime against nature. This is the worst possible time..." He knew the grub couldn't understand a word of what he was saying, but it put him back in his element a bit just to be arguing with _something_. "Come oooon. Be good just for once!" It donned on him vaguely that he was pleading with a four-day-old. Turning on his heels, Karkat swallowed nervously and pressed the wiggler tight to his chest. There wasn't much reasoning behind the idea, he was aware of that, and it still would've taken an imperial-class drone to pry his arms open at that moment. 

Pacing didn't accomplish anything (Kanaya helpfully reminded him of that.) She even pointed out that it could make things worse by alerting intruders with his footsteps, or by reopening his tender wounds. And yet, somehow, he really didn't care. Karkat always paced when he was worried- scratch that-- when he was worried and there was nothing else he could do. That's what disturbed him most about this situation: his uselessness. The fact that he could do just about anything at that time, and it would have little to no impact on the drone's gruesome mission. Silently panicking, he sat down unceremoniously on the floor and wrapped himself around Cancri like a shell. He couldn't fight for shit in that condition, but if nothing else, he could make himself a passable meatshield for his grub. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kanaya recoiled from the doorway when she heard the creature speak. It was right outside by this point, and clearly aware of her presence from the way it held its optics to the window in an attempt to see inside. 

"KANAYA MARYAM: VIRGO, AGED EIGHT SWEEPS. REVEAL YOURSELF." 

Like hell she was just going to waltz right into the crosshairs. An odd corner of her head wondered if this was standard procedure for drones; if the culling board really thought hatchlings were stupid enough to open the door for their executioners. 

"SEND DATE 2, 28, 20419. CARGO NOT YET RECIEVED. REPEAT. KANAYA MARYAM: VIRGO, AGED EIGHT SWEEPS. RETRIEVE YOUR PACKAGE ON ORDER OF THE HEIRESS." 

What. 'Heiress'? ...They couldn't be serious. This had to be some kind of moronic trick. Someone at the bioprogramming facilities had a twisted sense of humor. 

"RECIPENT UNRESPONSIVE. PLAYING AUDIO FILE 'heykanaya.wav'. LOADING." Suddenly the grating din of the drone's voice cut out and a staticky recording took its place. 

"Hey Kanaya! Sorry for the scare. It's hard to get anything delivered long-distance when I can't leave my lusus for more than a day or so. This drone has all its weapons systems disabled: it's just a big metal cuddlefish, heehee! Anyway, I hope this book helps you find what you were looking for. Take care of it for me! Sea ya!" 

Dumbstruck, Kanaya nearly dropped her chainsaw in shock. She'd seen Feferi on webcam enough to recognize that chipper voice, and she distinctly remembered the Peixes girl's offer to send her a rare volume. Slowly, cautiously, and without loosening her grip on her weapon, Kanaya cracked the door to peer out at the hulking drone. 

"KANAYA MARYAM, VIRGO-CASTE JUVENILE?" It inspected her with its gleaming red eyes, matching the logo on her breast pocket to the symbol in its database. On cue, a hatch in its chest popped open with a hiss of steam and a trickle of saltwater. "PLEASE SIGN ON THE PAD PROVIDED TO COMPLETE TRANSACTION." Still moving slowly in confoundment, Kanaya carefully reached into the compartment and pulled out a heavy, plastic-bound book, along with a small electronic signature pad. 

The book was obscenely old, stinking of ocean and sickly artificial preservatives. Unnerved by the drone's lidless glare, she signed the pad as instructed with her name and symbol before gingerly dropping it back into the hollow of the beast's chest. "THANK YOU. HAVE A NICE EVENING." Still creaking and staggering around on salt-encrusted joints, the drone took a few stiff paces away from the hive before activating its flight thrusters and taking off with a roar into the greenish sky.

Kanaya just stood there for a while in disbelief, clutching the book unconsciously. It took her a good three minutes or so to stop staring at the drone's fading vapor trail and wobble inside, abandoning her saw clumsily at the door. She headed upstairs in stunned quiet, finding Karkat huddled awkwardly against the wall with the grub clasped tight in his arms. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He'd forgotten how long he'd been shamelessly cowering against the room's only windowless wall. When Kanaya approached, Karkat shot upright, trying pitifully to retain some semblance of his dignity. That, however, was quickly lost the moment he failed to stop himself from talking. 

"What happened? The hell was that thing- is it dead? Where is it?" His voice came out as a long, pitchy string of questions, and his hold on the squirming wiggler didn't slack in the least as he looked up at his friend with wild, desperate eyes.  

"It was... A delivery." Still struggling for words, Kanaya held up the book dumbly to reinforce her statement. 

"...The fuck?"

"Feferi sent this book. Since she can't travel and doesn't have any who can make deliveries for her, she used one of the imperial drones that was assigned to protect her. I... couldn't make up that story if I tried."  

"What. The. Fuck. ...She seriously thought she could just use a hive-sized murder machine as a delivery boy and no one would get the wrong impression?!" 

"I... don't claim to understand her logic." That was the honest truth. 

"I just... this girl is insane." Karkat slacked his grip on Cancri in relief, but he couldn't stop bawking at the ridiculuousness of this situation. 

"Can't argue with that verdict. However, she's a benevolent sort of insane, which is incidentally helpful to us." Having risen a bit from her astonished fugue, Kanaya knelt to meet her friend and placed the weathered plasticine book between them. 

"What's this about?" Brushing some of the salty residue from its cover, Karkat could just barely make out the faint lines of an inscription. A caste symbol: one mossy-green and identical to the one Nepeta always wore. He knew there were a good few greenbloods running around, and that Leijon probably wasn't the first Leo in all of existence. Still, the likelihood of such an ancient and valuable book featuring a bloodline he knew firsthand was very slim, and that alone was enough to make it interesting. 

"'The Book of the Disciple'. Feferi said that it's one of the last eyewitness accounts of the Signless." Before he got the chance to be irate, she interjected. "She doesn't know why I was researching him, only that he's a very obscure figure and I needed information. ...You're perfectly safe."

"Safe my ass- what if that had been a culling drone?" Technically it was one. "I mean, what if it wasn't just Feferi being a clueless fishbrained nook? We could've been slaughtered! Smeared across the walls of this hive like a big, shitty green and red mural!" 

"Calm down. None of that happened, and it's not going to." The scientific part of her suspected that hormones probably weren't helping Karkat's rationale. "What _is_ going to happen is us learning more about the Signless than any non-imperial troll has been able to for sweeps." 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Regula waited patiently for Acuben to catch up to her at the top of the cliff. He was small and his limbs still short and clumsy, but he needed to learn how to climb the slope himself. After a few minutes of hanging around in the mouth of the mountainside cave, she finally saw his messy black hair and tiny, blunt horns emerge over the rocky edge. 

"I did it! See? I told you I could make it by myself." The hatchling talked awfully big for someone who couldn't pull himself onto the actual ledge. It was just how he was, though: all venom and fire and scarlet-red fervor. In that way, despite looking a dead match, he was nothing like his mother. 

"I never doubted you. ...Need a hand?" 

"Nooo! I can do it!" Should've known better than to expect a two-sweep-old to do a chinup. 

"Are you sure?" This was not the first time they'd had this conversation, and they both knew Regula could wait as long as the boy could keep being stubborn. 

"...Okay! Pull me up!" She had to laugh. Even when he was technically admitting defeat, he still spoke like a threshecutioner captain barking orders. With each hand easily wrapping around his thin little wrists, she pulled Acuben onto the stone outcropping with relative ease. "...Thanks, I guess. -But I coulda done it! I coulda climbed all the way up here by myself, but... it'd take a while and you shouldn't be alone that long!" 

At that, Regula broke down laughing. This boy had the stubborness of a herdbeast and the gall of a wildcat. When her mate was executed, she thought she'd never regain the happiness of those nights she had with him. But with his descendant always at her side, smart and brave and filled with his mother's ideals, her exile somehow didn't feel so bad. 

"Come on inside." She smiled, taking the child's hand and running her fingers over it affectionately. His wild grey eyes could always clear the cobwebs from her head. "You can help me work on this new page." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saved a draft of this and the site treated it like a full out update? Whoops...


	16. The Decision

With its laminated pages spread out on the floor between them, Karkat and Kanaya stayed up till mid-morning studying the deceprit book. Vague and elaborate, the dull plastic was riddled with pockets of antiquated language that made it annoying to read, but not incomprehensible.

"On the third night of the fourth dark season perigee, I saw the strange and terrible thing unfold myself."  The script ran like a mix of a diary and an epic: like its writer had thought about their story for some time and transcribed every word carefully. "It was the middle of the day, shortly after noon, and he didn't sleep for two nights due to a searing and inexplicable pain that overtook him and made it impossible for him to stand or move. Just before dawn, my Acuben produced a living, breathing grub that layed still unless disturbed and made little noise. This creature, scarlet in tint as he ever was, breathed shallow and died shortly after birth. According to Acuben, this was the second time this sort of daymare had occurred, and it left a strange scar on him mentally that I could never mend, or even access. Such an incomprehensible power the miserable worm had over him."

Kanaya politely pretended not to notice the way Karkat's grip on Cancri got progressively tighter as he read through that passage. Though his health in the past few nights had bordered on frightening, he was recovering well with that proud, stubborn demeanor spurring him on. He could walk almost normally by this point, carrying only a slight limp, and had regained most of the venom and fervor in his voice. It surprised Kanaya, then, when he blatantly ignored the way Cancri was chewing on the the laminate.

"Ah- can you make him stop that?! This book is terribly expensive." She tried not to sound too 'naggy' this time, but she couldn't help being concerned for the antique.

"I'm trying, but..." Karkat pried Cancri off, pulling him around the abdomen until he couldn't hold on with his teeth anymore. As soon as his mouth was freed, the grub gulped a deep breath and began wailing something ungodly. "Every time I get him off something, he does that." He said that like it was just a fact of nature that wasn't worth bothering to change.

"Well, find him something else to destroy!" This time her irritation was hard to mask.

"Okay, okay. Shit." Reaching behind himself with his free hand, Karkat felt around the carpeting for something to pacify the grub. He grabbed a small, soft object and stuffed it into Cancri's gaping maw as quickly as possible. It was a wool stocking, knee-high and well made, and Kanaya frowned disapprovingly when she saw the grub start to drool on it.

"Ugh. Does it have to be mine?" Fatigue made her a little snippier than normal, and it was showing.

"You said find something, so I found something. If you want it, you can get it back yourself." Karkat leaned back a little, displaying the infant in his lap for Kanaya to confront. She reached for the sock, but was promptly stopped by a buzzing, protective growl from Cancri.

"...Okay then. I guess... he can have that."

"Saves us both a lot of trouble." Kanaya swore she saw a mean flicker of a grin cross Karkat's face. The bastard had no appreciation for nice accessories. Still, it was hard to look that fat grub in the face and deny him- at five days old, he already had a way of getting his way. Running a hand over the edge of the book to confirm its integrity, Kanaya continued her reading.

"Some of Acuben's followers believed the grubs to be a cosmic sign, a callback to something massive and ancestral that trolls have largely forgotten. Acuben was with me in concluding that these individuals were deluded and mad. Despite the way he spoke of his offspring as accursed burdens and nature's own attempts at destroying him, he still hung onto a kind of sadness when referring to them that made me think he was only humoring other peoples' interpretations.

"For a long time, I wondered what would happen if one of these children had survived, but as of this writing that question has been answered for me. Shortly before his execution, Acuben produced a fourth grub, heartier than the others. Though my attempts to rescue or avenge my mate had failed, I came into possession of this grub, and proceeded to look after him to the best of my abilities, much as Acuben's own guardian, Porima, had looked after him. I pray that my efforts end on better terms than my predecessor's. The scarlet bloodline must endure, for now I too believe that it holds some sort of key to the ultimate absolution of the boundaries that divide all castes. -♌"

  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two young trolls shared a long, unpleasant pause upon reading that section. Its tone, reflective yet urgent, made them both uneasy, and after a spell of grim, personal deliberation, Karkat came to his conclusion.

"I have to get out of this hive soon."

Kanaya frowned thoughtfully. "Don't be ridiculous. You're still very anemic, and certainly in no condition to maneuver this desert."

"I made it out here, didn't I? I can do it again. The light-walkers are persistent, but they're weak as wet tissue paper. You can slice right through the rotten fuckers." Pulling Cancri onto his shoulder, Karkat gave her a grave look. He'd already made his decision; he was just announcing his plans, not asking for Kanaya's approval.

"It doesn't matter. You can hardly walk straight- what on Alternia compels you to march off into the damn wilderness when you have a perfectly good sanctuary here?"

"How about not wanting this 'sanctuary' to get razed to the ground?" Karkat snarls, more bitter than aggressive. "That drone wasn't the real deal, but it has a tracking chip. When the culling board finds out one of their monsters was out here, with no prompt or purpose, they're gonna investigate. And if they investigate and find two freaks of trollkind, one of which is a grub with no lusus or any kind of documentation, they'll probably tear the place apart as a precaution."

"What are you insinuating here?"

"I'm not insinuating, I'm straight-up saying. Me being here is a huge liability for you, jadeblooded or not. I might be a class-A fuckup, but that doesn't mean you should have to pay for it."

"So... what, you're going to strap a wiggler to your back and try to cross the desert on a paranoia-based assumption?" Eying Karkat, Kanaya folded her arms sternly. She wasn't going to budge, and Karkat began to fear this would turn into another stubbornness competition.

"If it means not wrapping up this pity party with a bio-missile death inferno, yes. I will strap this little bastard to my back with fucking lawnring hoses if I have to and take off into the great wide shitty world again."

  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
Despite her best attempts at dissuading him, Acuben already had his heart set. On the edge of tears, Regula clung to his arm, wiry and strong, and pleaded with him again.

"Please, dear, reconsider. The camp is greatly outmatched and outnumbered. Even with the best tactics possible, you'd be sacrificing dozens of recruits!"

"I know, mother. That's why I've decided to make it a solo mission."

"What?! Are you insane?" Her hold on the boy's arm tightened. Just because he's turned eight, he thinks he can do anything!

"No, and I wish you'd stop asking me that! I know what I'm doing. This situation is too dangerous to break into an all-out fight. The best thing to do is to try and handle it with stealth. Break in, take their plans, get out. No bloodshed, no loss of life."

"Except yours! Do you seriously think that you can sneak up on an entire squadron of ruffianihilators alone and make it out alive?!"

"Yes, mother!" Acuben wrenched his arm away from her grasp, yanking one of his scythes from its holster. "It's our only option right now. Otherwise we'd just be sitting here under this rock, waiting for our comrades out east to get massacred. I can't let that happen. If we're going to start a damn rebellion, we should at least do it right. That means as little sacrifice as possible."

And for the first time in sweeps, Regula genuinely regretted her role in Acuben's rebellion.

  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
"Are you insane?" Kanaya meant that as a legitimate question rather than an expletive. "Listen to yourself. Explain to me how any of that is not preposterous."

"Good to know you have some faith in my mental facilities." Having decided he'd heard enough from the book for one day (or any number of days, really,) Karkat turned away and picked himself up clumsily.

"Where are you going?" Jumping to her feet to follow him, Kanaya shut the book and tucked it under her arm protectively. Luckily for her, Karkat still limped and staggered around, so it didn't take long to circle around and block his path.

Karkat glowered at her when she stoodin his way. "Gonna get my bag, if you haven't burned it already. I'll get the scythes polished up, maybe fill a couple canteens and get out of your hair."

"First of all, I wouldn't burn someone else's property. ...Stow it in a corner where it can't contaminate the rest of the hive, sure, but never burn it." When Karkat tried to duck past her, Kanaya straightened up and got to work completely obstructing the empty doorway. "Second of all, there's no way in hell I'm letting you leave in that condition, let alone by yourself!"

Taking a nervy step backward, Karkat glared at her appraisingly. What was she doing? He'd been nothing but a leech and a disaster since he got there. By all logical thought processes, she should've been more than eager to kick him out. Maybe all those sweeps in the desert had fried her thinkpan. "...Well obviously I'm leaving by myself. Cancri doesn't count- he's more like luggage than a travel companion."

"That's what I'm saying." Kanaya gave Karkat a glare to match his own, but her expression softened when she caught a note of fear in his face. He was really convinced that he had to fight through the desert alone, guarding that grub the whole way. The poor creature had no idea. "If you're going to have to wandering around in the wilderness... Avoiding drones and the like..."

She sighed, circling closer to grab Karkat's shoulder. After hesitating painfully, like she was ruminating on something massive, Kanaya looked him in the eye and concluded, "...I think I should go with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for the amount of time this chapter took. I just want to reiterate that Partho isn't dead just yet, and I'm going to make a geniune effort to pick up the updates in the future.


	17. The Flight

Karkat stared at his gracious hostess like she just dropped her dress and started dancing. She... was kidding, right? Or at least exaggerating. Crazy broad and her frilly poetic horseshit.

"Okay, yeah... You're with me in spirit, I get it. That's great and all. So can I mooch some water from your well, or-"

"No, I meant it literally. You can't drag a grub through the desert alone. It's just too dangerous." Kanaya's vicegrip on his arm didn't relent, forcing him to see eye-to-eye with her despite halfhearted attempts at squirming away.

"Sitting here and waiting for the drones is dangerous. I don't have any other options." At that, Karkat wrenched himself out of Kanaya's grasp and started glancing around for his filthy duffle bag.

"No offense, but the undead will tear you both from maw to chute. I should go with you- I know how the daywalkers function. I can help." Her voice was cold and unmoving as a steel girder. Karkat hated when she got like that.

" _No offense_ , but if I get any more pity from you, my pan's gonna liquefy like fucking putrified grubsauce and drain out my ears."

"Don't think of it as pity for you. Think of it as looking out for Cancri." The words cut right into him, faster than the chainsaw. Kanaya never hesitated to go for the throat.

"I can look after Cancri fine." He had no solid foundation on which to base that statement and he knew it. Without thinking, Karkat squeezed the grub closer to his chest, looking Kanaya up and down like a cornered animal.

"Stop being stubborn. I mean, you're always stubborn, but don't be foolish, too." Great, she was backtracking. This couldn't be good. "Leaving now would be a suicide mission, for both of you." Karkat fidgeted and glanced away, but didn't respond. Only so many times one can make the same argument without getting tired: even he understood that. "If I go with you to... wherever you're going--"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"--Well, if I go with you, your chances of survival will drastically improve." She quickly adopted a firm, unmoving stance, holding onto Karkat's arm insistently. That electric green spark of anger had burned its way into her expression, and all at once, he ran out of energy to fight with her.

"Yeah." Defeated, he slumped forward in unfounded exhaustion. "Okay, you're right. Good for you." He decided to keep eye contact with the rug instead of Kanaya. The rug was a lot less frustrating. One of his legs buckled, weak from anemia, until he was forced to collapse on an opulent sofa. So much for building a case around his competence.

"I'm not saying it to gloat. I'm definitely coming with you." Kanaya turned her back triumphantly, like a Gladiannotator walking away from a mangled opponent. She busied herself digging through a trunk while Karkat settled Cancri in his lap and nursed his pride. He was going to talk her out of this. He just needed some more time to think.

And then his dear friend interrupted his plotting to undermine her. "Ah, found them!"

"Found what?" If he kept his statements curt and brief, she couldn't turn them against him. Right?

"Dayvision goggles." Karkat groaned, flopping back against the couch. There was just no way she could be serious.

"Why do you even have those?" Glinting in the muffled daylight was a pair of dark brownish elastic goggles, with lenses so black they were nearly opaque. This kind of equipment showed up in movies occasionally; specially treated eyegaurds that allowed trolls to function on sunlit worlds. They come in many strengths and varieties, but these had all the signs of being a nice, expensive model.

"They're for visitors. I don't get many visitors," she sighed, lowering her hands, "but they're a good precautionary measure to have around."

"Well, that's great. I'll find a way to pay you back for them, since I'd really enjoy not getting my ocular bulbs burned down until they're effectively branded into my pan."Cancri squeaked pitifully and clung to Karkat's shirt, chewing on the hem. The little beefgrub made it very hard for morbid speeches to be taken seriously. "Assuming I make it that long."

Kanaya stood over him, narrowing her eyes sternly. "You will make it. Because I'll be with you."

"Listen to yourself! That's insane. You've got a whole life ahead of you, being a brood nurse and doing important jadeblood stuff. You wanna talk 'foolish' or 'suicidal'?" Karkat bristled, sitting up as straight as he could without his head spinning. Glowering at Kanaya, he clung to Cancri aggressively until the grub made a pitchy squeak in protest.

"Wasting all that cavorting around the wild with a couple mutants sounds a lot like throwing your life away to me!" He started almost-shouting somewhere in that sentence, and it quickly developed into actual shouting. Karkat likes to think he still has some troll decency left in him: like hell is he going to lose it by dragging Kanaya into the mud with him.

"I wouldn't be wasting anything! I hate to stoke your ego, Vantas, but you and that grub are two of the rarest creatures on the face of Alternia." Sinking down onto the couch next to him, Kanaya adopted an absent, loaded tone. "You could hold the secret to a whole new understanding of the Mother Grubs, not to mention the history and biology of trolls. Compared to that, cleaning up larvae excretions in a cave for dozens of sweeps is a massive waste of a life."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Acuben staggered back to her just before noon, blinded by the incessant sunlight and trailing foul red ribbons through the dirt as he went. As soon as his silhoutte was spotted on the horizon, Regula was there, yelling at him and cursing him and tearing off hunks of her skirt to staunch the bleeding. The older he got, the more she pitied him. The more she feared he was going to end up like his mother.

"Where have you been? You promised you'd be done before sunup!" She scrubbed at his face with the dirty fabric, mopping scarlet smears away from the scratches around his eyes.

"...I got their log book."

"That's not what I asked! Did they see you-- oh, god, did they see your blood?"

"I don't know." He wore the distant, flat expression he got when he was lying, and that only made Regula more anxious.

"Don't lie to me." Holding onto his thin wrists, she shook Acuben a little, prompting him. It still took him a disturbingly long time to answer.

"They said... I'd earned a proper execution. Tried to tie me down." Regula made a dreadful choking noise, clamping her hands over her mouth. They knew. They knew the Signless' descendant was alive, and they had plans for him.

"I knew you should've never gone. From now on, you're staying here, you're not going to leave the cave for anything without someone with you. You're--"

"Mother, I don't think it'll matter." Hands shaking miserably, Acuben withdrew the tough black book from under his belt and held it out to her. "The squadron's moving west. They're organizing a raid."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just like his last big exodus from safety, Karkat took surprisingly little time to prepare. Kanaya had won the battle, and the war. She was busy stuffing backpacks, tacking together reflective cloaks, filling canteens. As much as he hated to admit it, she was probably the best person to have on an excursion like this. All the things he'd forgotten the first time (dry sopor concentrate, heatproof food rations, multiple types of knives and scissors,) and several he would've never thought of (most notably a solar-powered generator) were bundled into tight packs, lashed together with durable cord. When asked, Kanaya confessed that it wasn't the first time she'd thought about pulling a stunt like this.

"When I was younger, I used to wander off into the desert every now and then. I guess I was restless, being cooped up in this hive all the time. Drove my lusus crazy." A woman on a mission, Kanaya didn't even look up from her work as she spoke.

"So your plan was to go from being cooped up in a hive to being cooped up in a cave?" Karkat made a genuine effort to help out, clutching Cancri in one arm and clumsily tying down bags with the other. (Which Kanaya would later fix because she just couldn't stand his sloppy handiwork.)

"That was the empire's plan for me, yes. And I suppose I always kind of accepted it." She paused, just for a moment, to pick her words carefully. "That's why my hive was built in such a remote place. No point in getting accustomed to other trolls when all I had to look forward to was the same bunch of other jadebloods for a few centuries."

The last bundle she added to the mass was a small lacquer box, lovingly wrapped in her good silks. It was given an important place in the interior pocket of her knapsack, close to her back so it wouldn't be jarred by walking.

"The matriorb?" Karkat knew he shouldn't look a gift hoofbeast in the protein chute, and this was a pretty damn big hoofbeast he was getting awarded here. The best desert guide on Alternia, all the supplies he could ask for, not to mention the goggles that promised to stave off blindness. But despite all this, he was still a natural critic, and couldn't get through anything without asking some questions.

"Yes. If I'm never coming back here, I still want to honor my promises. I've made a lot of them, true, but the one I made to her was important. The orb is my responsibility." After a second of thought, she added, absently. "Just like Cancri is yours."

"...Yeah. I understand." Looking down at the heavy packs Kanaya prepared, the realization that they were never coming back here sunk in more than ever. With Cancri settled into a makeshift sling across his chest, he asked, "can I borrow your husktop one more time?"

"Sure. Just let me finish some of my own business first."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

grimAuxillatrix [GA] began trolling calligulasAquarium [CA]  
GA: Good Evening  
CA: wwhats up kan  
CA: you havvent been on a lot lately  
GA: Yes  
GA: Well  
GA: Thats Sort Of What I Wanted To Talk To You About

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? Fic necromancy, or just terrible writing? The answer is both. I am so, so sorry people. This fic's over a year old now, and it's still only a fraction of its intended length. Life, school, and other factors do make it hard to write, but they're no excuse for how long it's been. But Partho lives again! And I'm going to make dead sure it doesn't take months for the next damn update. I love you all, if you're still out there.


	18. The First Steps

CA: wwhat about it

GA: Its Complicated

CA: evverythings fuckin complicated wwith you

CA: miss fussyfangs alwways gotta make evverything her business an ovvercomplicate shit for evveryone

CA: just get on wwith it

GA: Fair Enough

GA: Im Leaving

CA: leavvin howw

GA: I Wont Be Online For A While

GA: Indefinitely Actually

CA: wwait wwhat

GA: I Am Going On An Extended Trip

GA: And I Wont Have Computer Access For Most Of It

CA: howw long

GA: I Dont Know

CA: wwhat

CA: this is a big steamin pile a hippocampus excrement kan

CA: can you at least tell me wwhere the hell youre goin

GA: Im Afraid Not

CA: wwhat are you evven talkin about

CA: your hivve is basically a hole in the middle of the goddamn desert

CA: youre a beached wwhale

CA: wwhere the fuck could you havve to go

CA: im just not seein your sun bleached thought process here

GA: I Dont Expect You To

GA: Im Sorry To Bring This On You So Suddenly

GA: A Very Difficult Situation Has Come Up

CA: difficult situation

CA: are you fuckin kiddin me

CA: im in a difficult situation kan

CA: im on the vverge a stranglin evvery dirtblood piece a shit that comes within ten paces

CA: got conscription pressin down on me like a vvice

CA: an tons important plans im nevver gonna finish

CA: an you say YOURE in a difficult situation

GA: Eridan

GA: I Have Faith In Your Ability Not To Asphixiate Anyone

CA: so youre ditchin me

GA: No

GA: I Just Have Other Engagements

CA: more important than your moirail

CA: kan

CA: you there

CA: hello

GA: I Have To Go

CA: wwait

GA: Ill Be Online Again

GA: Just Not As Often

CA: please

CA: just tell me wwhere youre goin

GA: If I Knew I Would

grimAuxillatrix [GA] ceased trolling calligulasAquarium [CA]

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It's all yours." Sighing sadly, Kanaya rose from her desk and carried the husktop over to Karkat. Despite all the maintenance it took to deal with him, she still felt guilty cutting Eridan off so abruptly. He was not the most stable fish in the sea. However, their conversation did raise a more pressing question.

"Where are we going, anyway?" She circled around to sit beside her friend, glancing at the screen appraisingly. It was lit with several empty, white maps that offered a vague topography of the desert and surrounding territories. Karkat bit his lip thoughtfully, flicking through the pages much faster than he could possibly read them.

"Taking a new route northwest." He stopped clicking frantically to study a recent survey of borderland hives and their occupancy. The degree of quiet he had suddenly achieved was markedly unnerving to her. It was the kind of silence one has when they're thinking about something gravely important.

"But that's where you came from. You'd be retracing your steps." Nudging Karkat aside a little, Kanaya settled in next to him and tried to grab the mouse for herself.  
"I know. That's why I have go further north this time."

"You'd be walking us straight into the drones!" She gave his arm a good shove, pulling the husktop closer to try and decipher what he was doing.

Karkat seized the mouse back as he answered distantly, "not if we went a different way."

"Why in the hell would you want to go back the way you came?" Kanaya was beginning to wonder if the blood loss had done permanent damage to his brain.

Grinding his teeth irritably, Karkat straightened up as tall as he could when his joints went taut. He dug his hands into the mouse and keyboard, nearly hard enough to bruise his own fingertips.

"I left something behind."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC]

TC: WeLl HaLlEmOtHeRfUcKiNgLuJaH.

TC: yOu CaMe BaCk ThIs TiMe.

TC: WhAt BrInGs YoU oNlInE, bEsT fRiEnD?

CG: CAN IT, THIS IS IMPORTANT.

TC: sHiT, oKaY.

TC: cOnSiDeR tHeSe FlApPiNg JaWs AlL sTuFfEd Up In A cAnIsTeR oF sOmE wIcKeD eLiXiR.

CG: THANK YOU FOR DOING US BOTH THE FAVOR OF CLOSING YOUR GAPING SQUAWK BLISTER.

TC: yOu'Re WeLcOmE. :o)

CG: LISTEN.

CG: I'M LEAVING KANAYA'S PLACE IN A NIGHT OR SO.

CG: AND FOR REASONS I CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO WRAP MY MANGLED, SUN-DRIED THINKPAN AROUND, I'M HEADED YOUR WAY.

TC: sErIoUsLy?

TC: YoU'rE cOmIn AlL tHe WaY bAcK tO tHe CoAsT?

CG: GOOD FOR YOU, HATCHLING!

CG: YOU GET A GOLD FUCKING STAR!

CG: IF IT WERE CAPABLE OF EMOTION OR THOUGHT, YOUR SCHOOLFEEDING COMPUTER WOULD BE SO PROUD OF YOU!

TC: sO yOu'Re ReAlLy GoInG bAcK tO yOuR hIvE?

TC: aFtEr AlL tHaT sCuRrYiNg ArOuNd?

TC: HaHa MoThErFuCkEr, YoU cOuLd MaKe A cLuCkBeAsT hElLa EnViOuS wItH aLl YoUr ZiGgInG aNd ZaGgInG.

CG: I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE NEAR THAT PUTRID HOVEL.

CG: I'M COMING TO GET YOU.

TC: mE?

TC: bRoThEr, I pItY yOu AnD aLl, AnD iT'd Be A mOtHeRfUcKiNg GaS tO gEt My GaNdErBuLbS aLl Up On A cRaBbY lItTlE wOnDeR i BeEn MiSsInG,

TC: bUt YoU sUrE tHaT's A gOoD iDeA?

CG: NO.

CG: BUT YOU KNOW WHAT'S AN EVEN WORSE IDEA?

CG: LEAVING MY MOIRAIL TO ROT ON THE BORDER OF FISHFUCK NOWHERE TILL THE DRONES COME AROUND LOOKING TO CULL HIS SORRY CLOWN ASS.

CG: I MIGHT'VE DITCHED YOU FOR A SWEEP, BUT EVEN I'M NOT THAT LOW.

TC: wHaT iS iT tHaT aLwAyS mAdE yOu So SuRe ThEy'Ll CuLl Me?

CG: SERIOUSLY?

CG: THE THOUGHT THAT YOU HAVE MORE SOPOR IN YOUR SYSTEM THAN ANYWHERE IN YOUR GODDAMN HIVE SERIOUSLY HASN'T OCCURED TO YOU?

CG: THEY RUN DRUG TESTS DIPSHIT.

CG: THEY'D GET ONE LOOK AT YOU AND SAY "FUCK NO, TOSS THAT ONE AND BASH IN THE WASTE CHUTE WITH A CULLING FORK ON HIS WAY DOWN."

TC: YoU mEaN tRaSh cOlLeCtIoN rEcEpTaClE, rIgHt?

CG: I KNOW WHAT I SAID.

CG: SO I'M COMING TO GET YOU.

CG: KANAYA GAVE ME MAPS, FOOD, CLOTHES, AND SOMEBODY WHO KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK THEY'RE DOING IN THE DESERT.

TC: HoLy FuCk, BrO.

TC: hOw LoNg WiLl It TaKe?

CG: IT SHOULDN'T BE SUCH A GODAWFUL COMMUTE THIS TIME, SINCE I ACTUALLY HAVE A LOBOTOMIZED HOOFBEAST'S IDEA OF WHERE I'M GOING.

CG: BUT DON'T HOLD YOUR BREATH.

CG: FIGURATIVELY OR LITERALLY.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bags were very evenly balanced: Karkat wasn't sure how the hell Kanaya did this without a scale. It seemed like they carried equal weights, carefully meted out for their sizes. After spending all night packing and plotting, they were ready to leave a couple hours before dawn.

When the two stepped out of the hive, Kanaya stopped to make sure her chainsaw was oiled (for the third time) and punched in her keycode to lock the main door. Thick bolts snapped into place, pinning the reinforced metal porthole into the walls. Karkat could not feasibly comprehend why she had to lock the damn door.

"Fuck's sake-- it's not like anyone's trying to get in!" Besides, she'd already taken all her valuables- her weapons, her electronics, the matriorb.

"Sometimes the daywalkers get curious. If they find a closed door that smells like the living, they'll occupy themselves pawing at it for hours." Kanaya neatly returned the small chainsaw to her beltloop, glancing at Karkat like he was a complete idiot for asking. "Trust me. I know their habits. It never hurts to keep them distracted."

Stomping out ahead, Karkat mocked Kanaya under his breath in a high-pitched, nasal whine. As soon as they were off the lawnring, his boots sunk into the sand with every step. God, he hated the desert.

"So you're sure about this? Going back to the coast?" Kanaya reached out to straighten Karkat's goggles as she spoke. She had given up her luxurious skirts in favor of tough but fitted leggings, plus a high-collared shirt that protected her shoulders and throat.

"Yeah. I can't just ditch Gamzee now, you know?" Yanking the hood up over his horns, Karkat trudged ahead again. There was no way he could actually outpace Kanaya, but it helped convey the idea that she had the option to stay behind at any point in this moronic escapade. "Conscription time's coming up. If he's in his hive when the drones come, he'll be dead on the spot."

"That's true." All Kanaya had to do was climb over a small dune (sure, she made it look easy) to catch up with him. "But do you think he has better chances of survival as a draft-dodger?"

"Fucking shrimp's-chance-at-a-royal-buffet level marginal, but yeah." Cancri wriggled uneasily against Karkat's chest, tucked into a makeshift sling cut from a couple of scarves. "Just think; if it was your moirail sitting around waiting for his useless ass to get culled, wouldn't you try to do something?"

At first, Kanaya opened her mouth to say something, to argue more. But her face fell, and she ended up saying nothing as she padded along silently at her friend's side. It was almost like she was too busy regretting something. For a long stretch of that morning's hike, she remained strangely reserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special props to my wonderful girlfriend/unpaid editor Habu for all her help on this chapter. <3 She helped me make it look a little more like I know what I'm doing.


	19. The Gash

By the time the sun rose, Karkat's boots contained more sand than feet. Kanaya told him it was simply because he didn't know how to walk without disturbing the dunes. Karkat figured it was the dunes' own damn fault for being in the way in the first place.

"I'm just saying, it would be a lot easier if you'd just plant your heel when you step, so you don't sink." Of course, Kanaya knew everything about the fucking desert.

"I've been planting my heel for the last three hours, and it hasn't done putrid squat." Adjusting Cancri for the fiftieth time, Karkat glowered at her irritably under his goggles. "If I hear that advice one more time, I'm gonna plant my heel in someone's chute till they gag on rubber."

Recognizing an empty threat when she heard one, Kanaya just nodded politely and continued to set the casual pace. She was careful to keep it modest, compensating for Karkat's faint limp. Moving too slow would make him complain that he was being patronized, though, so it was a careful balancing act on both their parts to maintain both civility and their own respective prides.

About an hour after sunup, Kanaya stopped abruptly in the shadow of a large dune and grabbed Karkat's cloak to keep him from walking any further.

"What? What's the problem?" Karkat thought they were making good time, considering he couldn't hike for shit in this landscape, but he trusted his friend's judgement enough to stop moving for a moment.

"Daywalker. Don't you smell it?" Her eyes darted over the sandy hills furiously, scanning for something only she knew how to see.

"Everything stinks like shit out here. I don't smell out of the usual." Mimicking Kanaya, Karkat sunk down against the dune behind them and lowered his head defensively.

"We're upwind. This is dangerous." Pushing Karkat lower with a hand on his shoulder, Kanaya rose a little and sniffed the air like a prey animal. "Stay down, and don't make any noise."

"I'm not just going to sit around while you--" He was cut off by another shove, sharper and more deliberate than before.

"You're in no shape to fight. Stay out of this." With that, Kanaya ducked behind the raised mound and disappeared into the endless wall of near-white sand.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When she revved her saw, Kanaya knew she had approximately thirty seconds before her opponent would respond. Their reflexes were terrible-- one of the few merciful things about them. The daywalker appeared to be a lone straggler, but she didn't want to risk its cries or her machinery drawing attention from other undead. She would have to be quick.

It staggered toward her numbly, no fear, no pain. Though the body was emaciated and frail-looking, its skin was mottled with dried lesions and tumors, hanging off at weird angles and giving the whole thing a lumpy, misshapen quality. The spore sacks clung prominently to random spots on its skull and abdomen, its cracked and splintered horns flashing a greasy sheen in the strong sunlight. Tissue flapping off in rotted chunks, the daywalker was a beautiful, horrendous expression of the desert's bright power. In this case, it was writ on some unfortunate juvenile who wandered too far or breathed too deep in a bad wind.

Her first slash ripped straight through a bony, fleshless arm, and it fell to the ground like a withered branch. Kanaya ducked and wove erratically to avoid its fractured teeth, knowing it was better to be slow than risk getting too close. She circled around behind the daywalker to slice into its neck; it took a few seconds to hack through all that fibrous growth and hardened scar tissue.

The creature screeched and hissed something unholy, clawing at Kanaya with fingers worn down to the bone. But its legs gave out as soon as its brain lost connection with its body and It crumpled, still breathlessly trying to shriek. As soon as it was on the ground and relatively motionless, Kanaya started kicking hot sand over the prone body.

"You can come out now." She kept her voice soft to avoid making too much noise. At no point did she stop working to bury the wretched husk, watching closely as its twitching died down.

"...Okay." It was clear that Karkat wanted to be obnoxious, but recognized that it wasn't his place. For once in his life, he kept his comments to himself. He joined Kanaya silently, helping her cover the daywalker until its feeble squirming stopped altogether.

Eventually he worked up the gall to break the quiet. "So why are we burying this thing?" It just wasn't in his nature to do things without asking questions. Kanaya thought that was a good habit to have.

"To keep its spores from spreading." She took particular care to see that its gaping mouth and eyesockets were completely filled.

"Spores, huh?" Karkat didn't stop, just kept shovelling sand over the body with his boots.

Not knowing how educated her friend was on the subject, Kanaya explained patiently. "Daywalkers are created by a fungal infection of the brain and spinal column. It spreads from the lungs to the blood to the nervous system, and then it takes control of them."

"So what about all the stories of them being 'the spawn of white magicks pailing with the dead' or some shit?" Even when speaking to someone he thought to owe outstanding debts, Karkat still managed to be ornery. It was good to see he still felt like himself after all he'd been through.

"Total fiction. All folklore that evolved through urban legends and sundry novellas." Admittedly, there was a time when Kanaya believed in those stories. How could you deny the supernatural when its gruesome avatars were actively shuffling around outside your doors? But she was too old for urban legends, and the science websites' explanations were a lot more satisfying.

"Have you fought them before?" Kanaya asked absently, stepping lightly on the shallow mound to make sure it had ceased moving.

"No, but I saw them. They moved like their skin was stuffed with dried-up strips of musclebeast glute, and so did I, but I was a little faster and just as fucking persistent." Shaking his head, Karkat added grimly. "Woulda been suicide to fight them."

"You're right." There was not much room left for horseshitting between them at the moment. Even Kanaya recognized that.

As they started travelling again, Karkat grew quiet for a bit. Every now and then Kanaya would see him glance anxiously over his shoulder, as though expecting the daywalker to come lunging after them. It was the longest he'd stopped complaining since they left, so she did a bit of a disservice to her friend and allowed him to believe that for a while.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The fight was over humiliatingly fast. There was a flurry of arrows, a roar of oncoming hooves, and then the massive fists and talons were on top of them. Archeradicators, Cavalreapers, Subjuggulators. Her Condescension had sent her best and brightest on this raid.

Regula squalled and ripped into every inch of cool body she could find, and the other rebels around her fought with similar vigor, but it was useless. They were vastly outnumbered and unprepared. The information Acuben risked his life for was only part of the plan-- they had been silently surrounded the whole time without realizing it. Mad and twisted though they were, some of the empire's generals were monstrously clever trolls.

She watched uselessly, hands tied behind her back in coarse knots. There's a good chance one or more of her fingers was broken, but that hardly seemed important at the moment. What did feel important was the troll-- Acuben, her Acuben-- being strung up at the widest wall of their cavern hideout. The Subjuggulators lifted him by his wrists and shoulders, tying him to a decrepit fluorescent light fixture and beating him till he held still. It was the worst possible scenario for both of them: they didn't just want to kill him, they wanted to make a show of it.

One of the indigo captains took a knife from his subordinate (of course he was too 'highly' to carry one himself,) brandishing it dramatically for all the bound and wounded lowbloods to see. Acuben looked down at them with remorse; all his followers, all their followers, were staring at him like he'd just put them to death. In a sense, he had.

"Now before we take you dirtblood bastards back to civilization, I propose a little experiment." This highblood was unusually well-spoken for a Subjuggulator. He had a sharp, lucid quality to him that somehow made him more frightening than he would be as a raving lunatic.

"I say we cut this motherfucker open and see if there's anything inside." Most of the Archeradicators scoffed, but the other troops jeered and beat their weapons against the ground or walls in excitement. Together they produced a hideous, cacophonous rattle that made the ceiling of the cave shiver and the most loyal of the rebels sob or scream with preemptive grief.

Regula locked eyes with Acuben once, barely able to see him for the olive haze in her vision. That was either tears or leftover blood, possibly both, but like her aching hands and wrists, that hardly seemed significant. She yelled her voice raw and pleaded with every ounce of strength she had, but she had nothing the empire would want. All they wanted was her and the people she pitied dead, and it was beginning to look miserably like they would succeed.

It became clear from the first movement he made that this grand Subjuggulator was not skilled with knives. The thought sent a chill down Regula's spine; he was used to bludgeoning his victims to death, or else ripping them apart with his bare claws. Having Acuben-- her grub, her greatest accomplishment, in his hands-- made Regula's bilesack turn. He drew everything out, making a performance of slowly ripping off her boy's clothes, stripping him down to his trousers and stepping to an angle so the rest of the chamber could see where he was cutting.

The edge of the knife sank into his belly, a little ways below the end of his ribs, right in the center. Reminded her a bit of the way she field-dressed her larger game. Acuben was brave, bless him, he was so brave, wincing and squirming when the knife went in but never crying out loud enough for even her wild-sharpened ears to pick up. One of the highblood's palms was nearly as big as his skull, and the older troll pinned him by a calloused hand on his hip to keep him steady as he slid the knife downward.

There Acuben did make a small noise, kicking feebly and gasping obscenities at his attacker, but it didn't deter the Subjuggulator at all. He just chuckled and dragged the blade down as far as it would go before hitting bone, then tossed it aside carelessly.

He kept sneering as he pulled the wound open wider, finding sadistic joy in the way Acuben wheezed and struggled defenselessly. This went on for what felt like hours, with the entire audience, both highblood and lowblood, watching in mixed horror and awe. Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for, closing his fingers around something deep in the boy's stomach. With a firm yank he ripped his scarlet-coated fingers free, making Acuben choke pitifully to keep himself from crying. Brave, brave boy.

"Well look at this, brothers and sisters! We hit the motherfucking jackpot!" Turning his back to the gristly hollow he'd carved, the Subjuggulator grinned wickedly, humorlessly at the crowd. He opened his hand and held it aloft; a tiny, slick red sphere, about the size of a (normal troll's) fist. It was squishy, semi-translucent, perfectly round save the spots where the highblood's claws were digging into it, and god help them all it was moving.

"Pretty as a picture, innit? Like something right outta the books." Regula squinted at the bloody thing, recognizing it with dread weighing heavy in the bottom of her throat. Just like the images they'd all seen at some point or another; the strange little objects that were supposed to lay in huge piles around the Mothergrub's den.

It was an egg, fragile, vulnerable and tenuously alive, and the sight of it made more than a few people gag. Acuben shuddered miserably, almost forgotten, as he craned his head to try and see his egg. He had never cried once when he was getting cut, or when his belly was torn open; but there were tears on his face when the highblood closed his massive hand... and squeezed.

If Regula wasn't crying before that point, she was then. The part that stood out to her most was that Acuben seemed to be losing consciousness, either from blood loss or just from the pain. Making a fractured, animalistic noise, Regula lurched forward and tried to scramble towards him. A nearby officer quickly put a stop to that, cracking her in the ribs with the hilt of his lance and knocking her back down. She crumpled down and lay there wheezing hoarsely, watching intently as the Archeradicator captain stormed up to the Subjuggulator's makeshift stage.

"That is more than enough, Master Nashir." He was a tall, built troll, with horns shaped like arrowheads and a stony, deep-cut face. Between him and the indigo, it looked like a flock of scavengers circling Acuben. They weren't even predators-- predators had nobility and reason, and Regula saw none of that in them.

"And just who the fuck do you think you are to be telling me what to do?" The Subjuggulator rose out of his natural slouch, revealing an intimidating height and bulk. There was a ribbon of sickly diluted red dribbling down his arm that kept drawing Regula's attention. It made her want to vomit.

"Executor Darkleer, sir, and I speak only out of practicality on both our parts." Oh, great. This one was going to be bureaucratic about their slaughter. "Her Condescention specified that she desired a public execution for this individual."

"Well what does it look like I'm motherfucking doing?" The highblood flashed his fangs when he spoke, white and glimmering. He was young for his bloodtype.

"Sir, please. If we fail to deliver this treasoner alive, we could all face terrible penalties." Weaving carefully past his superior, the blueblood reached out and gently began closing the hole in Acuben's stomach with his hands, muttering orders to his subordinates to sew the boy back together and cut him down.

"Killjoy is all you are. I was just conducting a little experiment." Regula began going the way of her charge, slowly being dragged out of consciousness by pain and exhaustion. Every inch of her ached with molten dread; she knew that the empire planned to make examples of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks- it just wouldn't be my fanfic if I didn't throw in some gratuitous violence every now and then. Pardon the disemboweling.


End file.
